Public Displays of Affection
by certifiably
Summary: No one ever said being in a relationship was easy. And if normal relationships were challenging, one with Tony Stark was bound to be filled with life-threatening hurdles.
1. Chapter 1

_Notes:_ Apparently I must also write the thing where Captain America and Iron Man start dating. Yes, I have fallen into this trap. There were so many little scenes caught in my head, and I just could not resist it.

This is set post Avengers movie-verse for the most part (maybe by about six months to a year. Time has passed). Again, my knowledge of the series is sadly limited, so I do apologize for inaccuracies and any ooc-ness you may find within. (Oh, and further apologies for the severe lack in Thor and Natasha. I love both, but they both elude me, and somehow they end up on the periphery for most of the story. I am making the effort to fix this for my next foray into the fandom.)

_Warnings:_ No major warnings for the story. Some language, an attempt at romance, and probable ooc-ness. Not beta read.

* * *

_Public Displays of Affection_

The conference with SHIELD took longer than usual that day. Perhaps it was unfair of Steve to think it, but he thought things would have gone much more quickly if Tony had not shown up to this particular meeting. The blame for that, of course, did not entirely fall on the billionaire, since it had been Steve who talked the man into coming. If Tony had his way, he would still be in his workshop ignoring the world in general.

But Tony was there, and he was worse than usual with his sarcastic banter. He did bring up several fair points, but all of them seemed especially slanted to cut down Fury and SHIELD To be fair, SHIELD had enough shady methods to make all of them uneasy, but Tony was being particularly argumentative today. Steve was secretly of the opinion that it was a passive-aggressive form of revenge on him for having dragged Tony along to the meeting none of them wanted to attend.

"You were just being difficult back there," he said when the meeting finally adjourned, and they made their way through the helicarrier's labyrinthine corridors. He was proven right when Tony tossed him a haughty look.

"I'm always like this," Tony retorted, despite the fact that he must have known Steve did not believe a word he said. "It's part of my natural charm."

"Fury didn't seem to find you charming," Steve said, but he was smiling, which really detracted from the way he was trying to be stern.

"That's because Fury's a big scary spy who has an image to uphold." Tony was never without a smartass remark. It was, as he said, part of his charm. Steve had to admit, Tony's charm was not in his words but in his actions, which were frequently more philanthropic than he probably realized.

For example, they were heading back to Stark Tower, which had become home to many of the Avengers. Even Steve, who had an apartment back when he was getting a regular salary from SHIELD, had moved in, along with Banner, Barton and sometimes Natasha and Thor. Those two were in and out, what with Natasha being Natasha and Thor being a god from another world with a girlfriend in New Mexico.

Tony had not so much offered them a place to stay as just presumed they were going to live there. Steve had only stopped in to visit after a lengthy trip across country. The next thing he knew, he was living in a room in Stark Tower and not knowing quite how it had happened. Tony had never officially made the offer, just the assumption that Steve would be staying. He still recalled the way Tony had never looked away from his computer tablet when he had mentioned getting an apartment.

_"Do you intend to keep it close to the Tower, or should I arrange to upgrade their gym to accommodate you?" he had asked, casually and utterly serious, and Steve had not known quite how to respond._

_"What…?" Steve had stammered, completely caught off guard. "Why would you do that?"_

_"You visit the gym when you're overloaded on energy," Tony had looked at him like it was the most natural thing to offer. "You should have one nearby that can take your kind of beating."_

_Steve had thought staying at the tower was an imposition, but moving out was seeming like even more of one._

_"You have an income, don't you?" For some reason, the question Tony had asked was not embarrassing because of Tony's direct manner. The following question, however, was unpleasant, even with the casually dismissive manner. "Is SHIELD paying you still, or should I put you on payroll?"_

_"You can't put me on your payroll!" Steve had been utterly mortified. "I don't work for you!"_

_"I'll have Pepper put you down as my nanny." And Tony's fingers had danced across that crystal screen as he walked away, completely oblivious to what he was doing to Steve. "Don't think I haven't noticed you forcing meals on me. Bruce looks less wan too."_

Steve was good at reading people, but Tony was always hard. It had taken a conversation with Banner to figure any of it out. Somehow the physicist understood Stark. He got him in a way no one else did—the way no one else even tried.

_"You did your research back when SHIELD first brought you in," Bruce had set aside his glasses and focused on him. "He's a public figure—up there with Hollywood stars and Bill Gates."_

_Steve later had to look up Bill Gates, but he accepted the words as important. At least he understood the concept of Hollywood stars, so he got what Bruce was saying._

_"He likes having people around him," Bruce had explained it so clearly. "He needs it. He just hasn't figured out how to say it yet."_

_"What should I do?" He had asked because he trusted Bruce to be straight with him. The man was always forthright._

_"He'll be less unpleasant to be around if you just don't talk about it," was the suggestion. "Stay. Your checking account will be pleasantly padded by this time next week whether you do or not. I'm assuming you only talked about moving because you felt you were imposing." _

_"Well, yes, actually. I was under the impression he didn't much care for me." To that, Bruce had only smirked._

_"If he didn't want you here, you wouldn't be."_

That had been weeks ago, and Steve was still at Stark Tower.

"Earth to Captain Rogers." He blinked, then blushed when he realized Tony was holding the door for him and probably had been for quite some time while he had been wandering around, lost in his thoughts. Tony grinned. "Welcome back, Cap."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"Something truly fascinating, then, since you were ignoring me."

"It was about you, actually," he said, enjoying Tony's startled blink. If he was to put a word to it, especially after he opted not to elaborate on his statement, he would have to admit that Tony actually looked quite adorable with that bemused look in his eyes.

"Right." A moment later the response came, Tony apparently deciding he could live with not knowing everything. Or perhaps plotting to find out later. Steve was going to have to watch the billionaire closely for a while. "So I was thinking food. Dinner."

"It's getting to be that time," Steve agreed. "We have chicken in the cooler. I could bake it. Or maybe cut it up and make chicken tacos."

"Actually, I thought we could go out," Tony said, and if he sounded a little stiff, Steve was not going to mention it. He was curious though, as to why Tony would be uncomfortable suggesting they have dinner out. "You and me? Celebrate another day Fury didn't break down and kill me out of frustration."

Steve frowned, processing this. Tony was studiously not looking at him, fussing with his high-tech phone as he was often wont to do. A glance to the side saw Natasha, Clint and Bruce walking along nearby, looking at them. Natasha had no expression, but that was not uncommon. Clint, on the other hand, looked utterly shocked, his eyes wide, gaping mouth working, trying to choose between a grin and a twist of something unpleasant. Steve had no idea which would be worse with Clint, so he looked to Bruce. The scientist's lips thinned, and he nodded curtly.

By this point Tony was fidgeting badly. Steve had taken way too long to reply.

"You know, it's okay," Tony said with a tight smile. "I've got work to do. I'll just order in—"

"I think dinner out sounds good," Steve interrupted. It was rude, but Tony never seemed to mind poor manners. Besides, if he let it happen, Tony would talk himself into a corner. He might not stop talking until they were completely off the helicarrier and then some. It was better to talk over him to shut him up. "Should I change, or is what I'm wearing okay?"

"Holy shit," Clint breathed, then grunted. Presumably Natasha elbowed him in the side. Steve appreciated the gesture. He was damn grateful for it when Tony's face lit up like a child presented with a treat.

"Excellent!" the man beamed. "I'll have Jarvis make reservations. You look fine. You always look fine. Have you seen a mirror lately, Cap? It's unfair to the rest of us that you can wear old man clothes and still look good."

"He has a point," Bruce murmured.

"No," Tony blurted. Steve looked at him in alarm. The others just seemed amused when Tony jabbed a finger at them (rather, more pointedly at Clint). "No. You're not invited. There's chicken in the fridge. Bruce can—"

"Relax, Stark," Clint cut in. Everyone knew the best way to get a word in edgewise with Tony was just by interrupting. Although, Clint had a look of unholy glee on his face, and Steve was tempted to cut _him_ off to spare them all from what horrors he might spout. Tony was snarky, but Clint had a vicious streak. "Even I wouldn't try to sit in on a first date."

Tony quieted. His eyes flicked from Clint to Natasha to Bruce, who offered a faint smile. Bruce had a sly side too, one Steve frequently forgot about. The man was just so unassuming, all but blending into the background when he could. He did not actually Hulk out that easily, and while it was impossible to ever forget about the big guy, it was easy to forget what kind of things would frequently come out of Banner's mouth.

"Just watch the media circus," Bruce advised. "PDA could destroy you two."

Steve frowned and looked at Tony. PDA? Wasn't that one of the gadgets Tony liked to play with? That did not fit the context, so obviously Bruce meant something else. Tony was not forthcoming, but that was okay. Because Tony was completely silent, fussing with his phone, and looking like he would rather be anywhere else but in this place, having this conversation.

It was easy to forget his own embarrassment when Tony was that flustered. Steve claimed the seat next to him on the jet, nudged him with an elbow, and was gratified by the halfhearted glare Tony sent him from the corner of his eye.

This was so very worth Clint's muffled snickering.

* * *

TBC...

Note: Tony is probably a bit more subdued in this story than he is in most stories I've read. True, he was always a womanizer, but when it's someone he actually wants as more than a quick lay, he seems to dance around a bit before actually diving in. (That's my interpretation anyway.)


	2. It Could Have Been Worse

_Note:_ Is there a category for Romance that's more friendship with a dash of love on the side? Just a thought.

* * *

_Public Displays of Affection:_

_It Could Have Been Worse_

Because they were the Avengers, things could never be quiet for too long. A group of would-be terrorists attempted to kidnap Bruce that night.

Apparently Bruce was on a grocery run. Tony later scoffed at this, reminding them that Jarvis had full control of their kitchen and could have whatever they wanted at their front door more quickly than they would have it getting it themselves. Regardless, Bruce had gone to the store down the street, and a couple of men with guns attempted to snatch him.

Steve was in the middle of telling Tony about growing up in Brooklyn when the man's phone beeped, and Jarvis suddenly spoke in his typical calm, British drawl.

"Sir, Dr. Banner is currently destroying a motor vehicle on Seventh Street."

Tony stared at Steve, who looked at the phone in shock.

"Please tell me he's using explosives," Tony murmured.

"The news feed shows him using his fists."

"Damn it," Tony grumbled, tossing his napkin on the table. "Tell Happy I need the Mark V."

"Yes, sir."

While Steve was disappointed at the abrupt end to the night—as far as dates went, it wasn't bad (and that was saying something, considering his first date since waking up from the ice was with the guy he had initially thought to be a colossal asshole)—he was not displeased. Tony's response was automatic and comforting, regardless of his complaining.

"Thor had to choose this week for a home visit," Tony griped. The waiter came hustling over as they left the table, looking frantic. Tony held out a business card before the poor man could guess at why such a valued customer was stalking out. "Contact my assistant for the bill. We're in a hurry. Cap, I hope you're okay without the uniform."

"The food was great," Steve assured the baffled waiter. He hurried after Tony, who was almost to the door. It was rather impressive how fast the guy could be while appearing to be moving at a leisurely pace. "What's the plan for keeping the Hulk from destroying anything else?"

"I thought we could appeal to his inner child," Tony said, accepting the metal suitcase Happy handed him. Steve never said anything, but it was always an impressive thing to watch the result of Tony's ingenious engineering unfold into the Iron Man armor. He kept an eye on it, always fascinated and a little leery of the machinery and how the people around them were suddenly enraptured by their presence. Happy handed him his shield, to which Steve nodded his thanks.

"Meaning?" he asked as the helmet clanked into place, hiding Tony from view.

"We'll wave shiny things in front of him and hope he gets interested." People were cheering now, but Steve was focused. He hooked an arm over Iron Man's shoulder, felt the solidness of the metal arm hug tight around his waist, and they were airborne.

Flying with Iron Man was always an interesting experience. Tony sometimes forgot that his passenger did not have the kind of protection he did. It was difficult to breathe at the speeds Iron Man traveled, but the trip was usually short enough that it never became an issue. The only time it ever had, Jarvis had been kind enough to alert Tony as to the discomfort of his passenger, and the situation was immediately rectified.

They landed less than thirty seconds later. Hulk was not so far from Stark Tower. He was as Jarvis had called it, big and green and stomping on the remains of what had been a large white van. The damage did not appear to be all that bad yet. Most of the destructive force was focused on that van. The window to the boutique behind the Hulk was broken, the still body of a man draped over fallen mannequins. Otherwise, the street had mostly cleared, and it was just Hulk and the offending vehicle.

"I'll check the civilians," Steve said, slipping easily into Captain America mode even without the full uniform. "See if you can calm him down."

"Calm him down," Tony echoed.

"You were the one who wanted to wave something shiny at him," Steve said. "Shiny armor. Go distract him."

"You're hilarious." Despite his sardonic words, Tony had already turned toward the Hulk.

Steve hurried over to the boutique. He would have traded places with Tony—gladly would have taken the risk he was asking Iron Man to take—but he knew the situation well enough to know that would have been a bad call. In the suit, Tony could move much more quickly than he could, and there was the convenient fact that Tony could fly up, out of range in an instant if need be. Plus, Hulk seemed to like Iron Man and was that much less likely to kill him in his rage.

The still man in the window was unconscious, not dead, which was a relief. Steve glanced around, spotted a few people hiding in the back of the shop, and looked back to the situation on the street. It… did not look good.

Hulk had gotten hold of Tony. His big hand was wrapped around the Iron Man armor, giving every appearance of being a large green kid playing with an action figure. Steve had seen small girls hold their Barbie dolls like that, and it was so wrong, but that was exactly what this reminded him of.

"Damn it." He twisted, prepared to throw his shield. If he could hit Hulk's arm, it might startle him into dropping Tony.

But Tony's mask suddenly flipped up. Their eyes met, and Steve felt his arm lowering, warned off by that look. It took a moment to hear anything over the sudden rush of blood in his ears, but he could see Tony struggling to smile and talk to the Hulk, wincing a bit when the Hulk gave him a rough shake once. Steve tensed again, forcing his ears to hear over the distant sirens. They needed to have this figured out before the police arrived, or this could get very bad very quickly.

"So… back to the Tower?" Tony was asking, sounding caught between hope and terror. The fear was fairly well expected. They had faced down demi-gods, alien races, and press conferences, but that was the Hulk, and he could crush Tony to death in a second if he chose to do so. Steve was ready to step in again. He was beginning to think this had been a mistake. They should have called in backup.

Then Hulk looked at him. Steve froze up solid, because of all the things he had faced in this world, the Hulk was the one thing he was certain would crush him like a bug. He wouldn't stand a chance. He was not at all soothed when Hulk started growling, even when Tony tapped at the arm holding him to regain his attention.

"Hey. Hey, buddy. You're scaring Captain America." As unflattering as that statement was, it was true, and it got Hulk to look back at Iron Man. Tony's smile looked a bit shaky. Steve was amazed he could manage it at all. Especially when faced with sudden and loud snarling, and Hulk giving Tony a rough shake. They would be lucky if Tony didn't have whiplash after this. "Right. _Augh_. Shit. Bruce. Hulk. Buddy, you… just tell me what's wrong."

Hulk was not a talkative fellow. He could talk. Steve had heard it. But it obviously took effort, and he did it only infrequently. Tony, on the other hand, probably had to expend more effort _not_ to talk than it did for Hulk to spit out a few words.

Steve would have smiled at the thought had Hulk not been a fist away from killing Iron Man.

"Stupid kidnappers."

He frowned. Wait. What? Tony looked equally confused, but only for a moment. The man blinked and looked over at Steve, then at the unconscious man behind him. It clicked then, and Steve hurried to restrain the man for when he woke.

"Yeah, that was kind of stupid," Tony remarked. "Hey. Why don't you head home, and we'll do the cleanup here, okay? Just… try not to scare Barton, okay? He's been touchy all week since Doc Oc broke his favorite bow."

Hulk grunted and frowned at Tony. It was a very human reaction, and Steve was not overly surprised that it was directed at Stark. That man could baffle anyone into an expression like that. Obviously.

Apparently the rapid fire talking had a soothing effect because Hulk suddenly started shrinking. He gave a grunt, opened his hand (Tony hit the ground with a startled yip, flailing a bit to keep upright), and staggered back into Banner's half-clothed form.

Steve hurried forward, steadying Banner and wincing in sympathy at the oversized finger-shaped grooves in the armor. They didn't seem to be causing Tony any problems with movement, though, so he suspended his worry for the billionaire to make certain Dr. Banner was unharmed.

The police arrived while Bruce pulled on Steve's sports coat. While Steve was sure they were all grateful for their lateness, he still had to wonder what they thought they could have done against the _Hulk_ had they been much earlier. Tony largely ignored them, his attention on the wreckage of the van. Banner smiled wryly at Steve, and they faced the officers together.

Fortunately, the damage was minimal. There were a few cracks in the sidewalk and pavement that had probably not been there before. The boutique needed a new storefront window (Stark Industries would be footing the bill for that). Happy showed up, and Steve had to wonder how he had started his evening with Tony but was going home with Bruce. Because Iron Man was taking the remains of the van to the police impound.

Still. As far as first dates went, Steve had to admit that he had suffered through worse.

* * *

Steve had been in Tony's penthouse a few times since its remodel. The first time he saw it, he admitted he had paid little attention to it. Loki had been there, and the place had been trashed, and there were so many other things he needed to worry about.

It looked much better now, of course. Everything about it was big and sleek and hard materials and soft edges, and it was so very _Tony_ that Steve could not imagine anyone else ever residing here. There was even a workbench (Tony's word for it, since Steve never would have known what to call that futuristic-looking slab).

Tony was there now, oblivious to Steve's arrival. There was a glass next to him, empty aside from melting ice. His hand flitted about in the space before him, manipulating the three-dimensional laser display in ways Steve never could have dreamed in his wildest imagining. Fury had a difficult time surprising him anymore, but Tony still stunned him on a regular basis.

"Dr. Banner was heading for the grocer when three men attempted a snatch and run," Steve announced. This was information Tony would want to know, even if he had not yet asked for it.

"Anyone know where the other two got off to?" Tony asked, not pausing or looking away from his work.

"Police said they would look, but it happened quickly, and Banner wasn't able to give much of a description." He watched, fascinated by the dance of Tony's hands through the air and the light show that followed. "Hopefully, they learned their lesson."

"Well, attempting to kidnap the _Hulk_ is never a good life choice," Tony said dryly. Steve chuckled and came to a stop beside him. Tony's hands stilled, and Steve turned, a little surprised to see that Tony was watching him. Usually when he encroached upon the man's work time, he was ignored but for some mild banter. Tony cleared his throat and looked back to his… well, whatever that was. "Is he okay? Bruce, I mean."

"Fine. Worried about you, actually."

"Me," Tony's lips twitched, a smile and then not. "Whatever for?"

"We all saw the damage to the suit," Steve reminded him gently.

"Ah, well that'll take some work to fix." Tony waved in a direction, and Steve looked, but the pathway where Jarvis would have removed Tony's suit was well over their heads, and he could not see anything amiss. "I've got other suits. It's fine."

"We weren't worried about the Iron Man armor," Steve scolded. "How's your neck?"

Tony gave the air in front of him a broad swipe, and everything disappeared. Steve blinked, briefly disappointed at the loss. But he had wanted to talk to Tony, and it was better that there were fewer distractions. He was not sure what to make of the cool look Tony was giving him now, though.

Experience told him that flat stare was not a good look. It usually preceded a comment that was contradictory, snide, or just plain hurtful. Steve was not as smart as Stark, but he was not stupid enough to let Tony have the next word. It was better to get to his real intentions as quickly as possible, or Tony would distract him, and he would leave wondering what had just happened.

"Since we didn't get to eat earlier, I took the liberty of having Clint order an extra pizza for us," he declared. "Then, I believe you mentioned you had a chess board."

It was impossible not to smile at the bewilderment on Tony's face. That was a much better look than the calculating one of before.

"It's not as traditional as dinner and a walk in the park, but you're not really a traditional kind of guy," Steve said. "You okay if we finish our date here? We can go out next time."

"You," Tony started, stopped, hmmed, and tried again. "Next time?"

Steve smiled, hoping he was not being presumptuous. But he had been having a good time, and it seemed that Tony was as well. He had caught Tony watching him over the past few weeks. The attraction was definitely there. Given Tony's reputation, Steve was surprised it had taken him this long to invite him out in the first place. Now, it was becoming fairly obvious that something was bringing him up short. Steve was going to have to make the next move.

"Unless the date was over for you before we were interrupted."

"What? No! Of course not!" Tony looked at him suspiciously. "I was having—and you were—the dinner… were _you_ having a good time?"

He laughed and was struck by the urge to kiss Tony. He didn't. Not yet. They had not yet made it through their first date after all. He settled for giving Tony's arm a squeeze and tugging him out of his chair.

"Come on," he said warmly. "Let's have a drink."

* * *

TBC...

Yes, I made mention of a Spiderman villain. I need to familiarize myself with Avengers villains, dang it! (As a side note, I'm not one hundred percent on which armor is the one that opens from a suitcase. If I'm totally wrong in that and someone knows the correct name, feel free to tell me. I will fix it.)


	3. Please Forgive My Awkwardness

_Note: _So, if the Mark V cannot fly, I have just made up a variation on the suit. We'll call it the Mark V and a half. So, _so_ sorry. Anyway, the sap continues. These following moments occurred because I could not get them out of my head, and I am a sucker for cuteness.

* * *

_Public Displays of Affection:_

_Please Forgive My Awkwardness_

Steve was not new to the dating scene. Perhaps he was new to going on more than one date with the same person, and he had never actually dated another man before, but he was not romantically incompetent. Well, only slightly.

"Did you bring me flowers?"

In hindsight, Steve thought that bringing flowers for a date might be restricted to times when he was seeing someone of the opposite gender. Now it was too late, and he could only manage damage control. Unfortunately he never was that great with aftermath. He usually anticipated things like this, avoided them. Since this was new territory, he was stumbling blindly along, hoping to god he didn't screw up too badly.

"It… yeah," he said finally.

Tony tipped his sunglasses down to consider the bouquet in Steve's hand. He looked skeptical for a moment, hesitant, and he reached out and took the flowers a little uncertainly. Steve got the distinct impression the man was holding back, and he found himself wishing Tony would just say something about the ridiculousness of the situation.

"I, um… might have a vase around here somewhere," Tony muttered. Steve made a mental note never to bring flowers again. Maybe a bouquet of wrenches. Tony would probably get a kick out of that. "Pepper made sure… Jarvis? Do I have any vases?"

"In the cupboard below the sink, sir."

"Right! Of course." Tony padded across the room, looking a bit silly in his suit and no shoes. The flowers—a mix the street vendor had promised was lovely—gave the impression that he was preparing to go out on a date. With a woman. Steve felt like an idiot all over again. There had been a couple guys in his squadron who he was certain had been sleeping together, and now he was regretting never asking them about it. At the time he had been head over heels for Peggy, and it did not seem relevant.

"I already told Bruce he's not allowed to interrupt this date because you're only allowed to leave once curtain raises if it's an emergency and even then people get touchy," Tony said. He pulled out a dusty-looking vase and frowned at it. Steve drew from his army training to keep from smiling when Tony shrugged, dropped the flowers in—wrapping plastic and all—and shoved the flowers under the tap. When he set the display on the counter, he was frowning again. "It never looks like that when Pepper puts them out."

"I think you're supposed to unwrap them first," Steve said mildly. "And trim the stems."

Tony hummed and tilted his head at the flowers as though that would somehow make it better. In the end, he snatched a rosebud from the collection and wandered around the counter, picking up things as he went—an envelope, his phone, scissors.

"Our reservation's at six," Tony announced, momentarily disappearing down a hallway. He reappeared less than thirty seconds later with shoes and no scissors. Steve was grateful for that. He was not sure what Tony would have done with a scissors on a night out. "I hope you like seafood."

He stopped in front of Steve, looking up at him with casually raised eyebrows, and then stepped in close, fiddling with Steve's jacket. Confusion was a way of life when spending time with Tony, so Steve looked down as Tony patted his chest and took a step back. The rosebud, newly trimmed, was tucked neatly into the button hole of his lapel.

"Very nice," Tony declared. "Shall we?"

It really was impossible to hold back anymore. Steve burst out laughing. Tony blinked at him, completely taken aback, and Steve could only laugh harder.

"I'm missing something here," Tony decided. "What's the joke?"

"Nothing!" Steve protested, still laughing helplessly. "It's just… You. And the flowers. And I am so sorry. I wasn't really thinking when I bought those."

He calmed enough to see the rueful twist of Tony's lips and the way he tucked his hands behind his back, folding them away, withdrawing. Which alerted him to a moment of wrongness. Maybe he should not have laughed.

But then Tony was pulling off his sunglasses (which were rather silly since he was indoors), and there was something in his eyes that Steve rarely saw. Something hard to describe but something very definitely nice.

"Don't be," Tony said abruptly. "Sorry, that is. Well, except for my general incompetence with flora, but Jarvis will help with that later."

And then he smiled, and it didn't matter that it was only their second official date. Steve caught the back of his neck and pulled him forward, swallowing the startled words.

Kissing Tony was definitely a new experience for the books. Steve was not used to kissing someone with facial hair, for one. The goatee tickled at his face, and he found he did not mind. He had also expected Tony to be a bit more aggressive. Instead, Tony just stood there, until Steve started to doubt himself and pulled away.

His worries did not fade when Tony swallowed and licked his lips. His hand was braced against Steve's collar, and he stared at it a moment before lifting it to curve around Steve's neck. Which was good. Steve figured Tony making an effort at closer physical contact was a good sign.

"Okay, you're right," Tony said, his voice catching on the last word. "I was, um… hmm…" He cleared his throat and met Steve's cautious stare. "You brought me _flowers_, Cap."

"I admit, I panicked," Steve chuckled, liking the warm weight of Tony against his chest. "I didn't really know what else to bring. I've never dated a man before."

"Bring yourself," Tony declared. "And… you kissed me. I… were you planning that?"

"You make it hard to resist."

"See, with smooth lines like that, why aren't you out dating supermodels?"

"Why aren't you?" Steve challenged, smiling. He never thought it would be this easy to get Tony so flustered.

"I have no idea," Tony mumbled. "But you're making a rather convincing argument for me to avoid them for the foreseeable future."

The hand on Steve's neck tightened, and they were kissing again. He had been right about Tony. He was far more aggressive when he was actively participating. His other arm curved around Steve's back, paper crumpling slightly as Tony attempted to cling without dropping the envelope he carried.

Something wet swiped across Steve's lips, startling him. He broke away, looking at Tony curiously. Wide dark eyes stared at him, equally anxious, and Steve could not recall the last time he felt this good about himself. He tugged up as Tony tugged down, and this time Steve met the tongue with his own, shuddering at the slick slide in his mouth.

When they pulled apart, Steve was breathing heavily. Tony gave a strained laugh and leaned into him, breath harsh in Steve's ear. It was comfortable, the warmth of his body against Steve's, and he clung to the man a bit tighter.

"We're going to be late for dinner," Tony remarked eventually, and Steve glanced at his wristwatch. It was after six.

"We're already late," he said.

"So we are."

Steve did not mind a bit. Judging from Tony's general lack of movement, neither did he.

* * *

"Sometimes I forget," Tony said as Steve puzzled over his phone and the iPod he had received from Tony and Clint respectively. The gadgets looked nearly identical, performed many of the same functions, but Steve knew only one of them was capable of making phone calls.

"You forget stuff all the time," Steve said, finally figuring out the difference when he accidentally dialed a number. He quickly canceled the call and looked over at the other man. Tony was looking at him with a strange mix of amusement and pensive contemplation. "What?"

"You've adapted so well to the times," Tony paused, marking something in the glowing display over his table with a wave of his hand. "But then you do something like that, and I remember when you were born."

"Come on," Steve protested. "They look almost exactly alike! Why would anyone design them like this?"

"I designed the phone," Tony reminded him.

"You know what I mean." That earned a grin.

"I don't speak for Apple," Tony shrugged and considered him again, his face once more falling into that odd expression. "You said you've never dated a guy before."

Just like that, the look made sense. Steve smiled, joining Tony on the couch and noting the way the man shifted to allow him room and yet somehow move closer. It seemed to be an unconscious movement, and it was rather endearing.

"Honestly, I haven't dated very much at all," he admitted. "No one wanted the scrawny sick kid from Brooklyn. After Project Rebirth, I went out a bit, I guess. I was on the road with a bunch of pretty girls, so it happens, right? Nothing clicked."

"And now you're gay?" Tony asked, ever so bluntly. "I thought people in the 40s were totally repressed."

Steve had to wonder where this was coming from. Why this question was eating at Tony to the point that he had to ask.

"Homosexuality isn't a new concept, Tony," he reached out, teasing a finger along the hair at Tony's chin. "Although the slang for it has changed a bit."

Tony laughed, a little funny sounding, before reaching out and yanking Steve forward until their lips met.

"Besides," Steve felt the need to add when they parted long enough to breathe. "I don't think I'm truly gay." Tony grunted and looked at him curiously. Steve offered a half smile. "Is a man considered gay when he's only ever found himself interested in one other man? It's always been women before you came along."

"In this enlightened age, we call that bisexual," Tony said loftily, then smiled and kissed Steve again. "Confession time."

"Do tell."

"You know I dated Pepper, right?"

Yes, he did. He also knew how bad it had been when the pair broke up. Tony had tried valiantly to be normal, but the entire tower had been on edge watching him, wondering when he would break.

Natasha, interestingly enough, had been the one to initiate movie nights directly following this, and she made them mandatory (barring any life-threatening emergencies). She made Tony pick out the movie the first night, and then she, Tony, and Bruce had somehow ended up piled together on the sofa. Steve would never forget that sight: Natasha with her feet on Tony's lap and Tony slumped against Bruce (sliding down until the other scientist relented and put a pillow on his lap for Tony to comfortably fall upon), Bruce's hand absentmindedly stroking Tony's hair. Things had been so much more relaxed after that night.

"That makes you bisexual as well," Steve predicted.

"No… well, yes," Tony frowned. "But that wasn't what I was going to say. I know you read SHIELD's file on me, but I'm pretty sure that doesn't mention personal relationships prior to Pepper."

"True enough," Steve wondered if he should be wary. It was difficult to tell with Tony. One never really knew what he would next say.

"Before Pepper, I didn't really _date_," Tony admitted. "I… slept with people."

True, that had not been in Tony's file. But it was difficult to know Stark this long and not hear about it. Steve supposed he might have found it offensive at one point, but Tony seemed to be a serious dater when it came right down to it. He was loyal to a fault. There had never been so much as a whisper of a rumor of infidelity while Tony was dating Pepper. And in the short time since Tony and Steve had been seeing each other, Tony had not so much as _looked_ at an attractive woman _or_ man. At least, not that Steve had noticed.

"Pepper says it's because I was afraid of commitment," Tony said, smiling wryly. "I think it's just because before… well, that was the sort of vapid, shallow lifestyle I enjoyed."

"Is this all supposed to be news to me?" Steve asked, gently teasing.

"I'm having a moment here!" Tony protested. "I just thought you should know. You know, if we're going to do this thing for real."

"I would like to do this for real," Steve murmured, enjoying the way his hand settled at Tony's waist. The other man seemed not to even notice, or just took it for granted. He was very focused, either way, and not on the hand. Steve smiled and raised an eyebrow at him, leaning in to kiss the man again. God, he loved kissing Tony. "So you were… promiscuous. Now, you're not. That's what matters to me."

"You're a dream," Tony mumbled against Steve's mouth.

"I heard about the women," Steve said, parting briefly to consider Tony. "You must have kept the men on the down-low."

"Ah… no men," Tony said with a grimace. "There is no keeping that from the media. Strangers sell anything for a moment in the limelight. Definitely no men. That would have been too much of a shit storm for me. I never did it."

That was somewhat surprising. Partly because of Tony's restraint, of which he had never been known to practice any, and mostly because it had been Tony to initiate this. It must have taken some serious guts to take that leap and ask another man out on a date. Especially when Tony had just admitted to believing that Steve would be completely against that type of relationship.

Steve dragged Tony forward, all but into his lap, and kissed him again. Tony groaned, shoving back against him with graceless abandon. If there was one thing Steve appreciated, it was that Tony threw everything he was and everything he had into these things. Steve met it head on, squeezing Tony's waist and neck, their tongues battling for dominance.

Steve won the tongue battle. Tony seemed not to mind.

* * *

TBC...


	4. Meaningful Relationships

I was going to wait before putting this out, but it's so short I thought, what the hell? Happy Sunday. Have an overprotective Clint.

* * *

_Public Displays of Affection:_

_Meaningful Relationships_

"So. You and Stark."

It really was only a matter of time before someone said something. Steve was amazed it took as long as it did. Tony said it was because no one really wanted to question Captain America on… well, anything he did.

When Clint came up to him one evening while he watched the news, it was something of a relief. It was not as if their dating was a secret. Clint, Natasha, and Banner had been there when Tony first asked Steve out. This tiptoeing around it was just ridiculous, and Steve felt it put a strain on their working relationship.

Clint sat on the couch next to him, kicking his feet out to rest on the coffee table. It was glass, and Steve doubted Tony ever intended for it to be a footrest, but he refrained from commenting. If it bothered Tony, he would say something. After all, Tony never shied away from saying something that could be potentially uncomfortable.

"What's _that_ like?"

That was not precisely the question Steve had been anticipating. He looked over at the marksman, curious at the wording.

"I mean… billionaire playboy, right?" Clint waggled his eyebrows. "Is he as good as they say?"

Steve was instantly offended.

"I think you have the wrong impression," he said sternly, and Clint's eyebrows froze high on his forehead.

"You mean you're _not_ banging that?"

"I mean what Tony and I do in our private time is not really your business," Steve replied, cooling considerably toward his teammate. Clint was a smartass. On a good day, he was even a match for Tony. Steve just did not appreciate it when it was aimed toward his intimate life.

"Holy shit, you're _not_," Clint sat up, looking at him as intently as he might a target in the distance. Steve frowned.

"I don't see…"

"Oh, it's completely relevant," Clint interrupted. "It's revelatory! You two have been dating for—what—two months now? I thought Stark would have talked you between the covers after the second _date_."

"I'm not sure I care for what you're implying," Steve admitted. "We haven't discussed… sex."

Actually, there had been one incident, and it was that memory more than this conversation that had a flush on Steve's cheeks. It wasn't _sex_, not exactly, but it was intimate. Because kissing Tony was pushing the boundaries into sex on its own, and as he had told Tony, he sometimes just couldn't help himself. One moment Tony had been babbling about the engine of one of his cars, the next… Steve really could not be held responsible when it came to Tony. The man had made such lovely noises when Steve shoved him against the wall and palmed his crotch.

"Stark has the reputation of being a huge slut," Clint said, squinting at him out of the corner of his eye. "And you haven't… And he's been so subdued lately… Captain. You broke him!"

"Contrary to popular belief—" Steve would never admit it, but he was gratified to see Clint jump at the smooth drawl behind him. Of course, he had jumped too, but that was completely beside the point. He had never considered Tony to be particularly good at stealth, but he just might have to reevaluate that conclusion. "I am actually capable of forming meaningful relationships."

"Is that what this is?" Steve bristled again when Clint rounded on Tony, dismissing the scare and bringing the topic back to front. "Just say it, Stark. I'll drop it, I swear. You are a great many things, but you're not a liar."

"Protecting Cap's virtue, are you?" Tony asked, neatly sidestepping the issue and the men at the couch. He stopped at the bar, pouring himself a drink one-handed and looking at the tablet in his other hand. "Pretty transparent."

"Just morbidly curious," Clint retorted, eyes darting from Tony to Steve and back again. "Now that I lost the wager—Bruce won, by the way. Not even _Thor_ believed you two hadn't done it yet."

_Bruce?_ Steve thought, a little surprised. Was this a common topic around the tower?

"I can't believe you guys have nothing better to do than discuss my sex life with Steve," Tony sighed. "Actually. Yes, I can. I'll install a new entertainment system downstairs. Just tell Thor he can't use it if he's going to crush this one too."

"You're avoiding the subject," Clint said. While it was true, Steve felt completely justified in glaring at him.

"It's still none of your business," he murmured.

"Relax, Cap," Tony said, and that smile went straight to Steve's gut. Then his gaze shifted to Clint, calm and cool (and okay, a little silly with that smudge of dirt over his eyebrow). But Clint was not laughing. Not really. That half-smirk was still there, but he was not laughing at all. "He's worried, right? That I'm ruining a good thing here."

All the amusement suddenly drained from Clint's eyes, and Steve was reminded why this man was an Avenger. Not that he really needed reminding. Even so, Steve could not believe they were having this conversation. He had been taught that it was impolite to _kiss and tell_ as it was in this day's vernacular. Unfortunately, Clint seemed intent upon forcing it all into the open.

Though Steve would have to admit there was actually very little to share.

"I know you don't think so, but I am actually able to form relationships that do not revolve around sex," Tony said, smiling like this was a perfectly normal thing to say.

"You don't have a good track record," Clint reminded him, and Steve flinched because it was true. It must have stung Tony something fierce.

"My record is full of failures that are far outweighed by spectacular successes," Tony announced, already leaving the room. Clint, of course, could not leave it rest.

"You're calling this a success?" he called to Tony's back.

The door slammed behind Tony, and it was just Clint and Steve again. Not a good thing for Clint, Steve thought darkly.

"Clint," he growled, clenching his fists on his thighs to refrain from punching the man right there.

Naturally, they were again interrupted. As big as Stark Tower was, it was difficult to ever find peace in this place. The door opened, and Banner stepped in, bearing a striking resemblance to the way Tony had looked not five minutes ago with a tablet in one hand, a mostly-empty glass tumbler in the other. But while Tony had been distracted, Banner just looked confused, staring at the items in his hands as if uncertain what to do with them.

"I just ran into… oh," Banner stopped, looking at Clint, then Steve. There must have been something telling on his face because Banner frowned and set the tablet and glass on a table by the door. "What happened?"

"Uh…" No matter his ire, Steve was aware that he did not faze Clint at all. However, when faced with the scholarly frown Banner aimed his way over scratched glasses, Clint looked like he would be happy anywhere else.

"Never mind," Banner cut him off, turning to Steve. "You might want to make sure your boyfriend doesn't get lost in his own head for too long."

Steve was over the back of the sofa and running toward the door before the words were completely out of Banner's mouth. He could kick the crap out of Clint later, during their morning training exercise.

* * *

Bruce must have had one hell of a chat with Clint. While Steve was particularly harsh on Clint when they next sparred, he felt a bit less malice than he had after that strange argument in the living room. It may have had something to do with the fact that when he next saw the marksman, he had an arm slung over Tony's shoulders, and the two were bantering over something Steve did not have the wherewithal to comprehend.

"I'm just saying, I know you like shiny new toys, but the N-64 is still the best system ever made," Clint announced.

"You say that because Thor beat you playing Wii tennis," Tony retorted. "And you haven't seen my upgraded PS3."

"You… modified a PS3?"

"Hacked the network, upgraded the software, made Final Fantasy graphics look like the original 8-bit Zelda," Tony said, smug as ever. "And I look forward to hearing you beg me to let you use it."

"You're killing me here, Tony."

"No, I think that's for Steve to do," Tony broke away, grinning and pointing off to a corner. "I will be over here, stretching and definitely not getting my ass kicked by you guys with overly developed muscles. And scary ninja women," he added for Natasha's benefit. She smirked.

"Tony," Steve protested immediately. They _had_ talked about this. Tony needed to train outside of the suit as well as in.

"Oh look. My phone is cool. I need to upgrade it. Bye."

The door was closing behind him before he finished talking. Steve sighed and looked at Clint. Clint offered a perky smile. It disappeared when Steve offered a single raised eyebrow in return.

* * *

TBC...


	5. Protecting You

_Note: _So I suck at writing Thor. I am sorry, Thor. You deserve so much better!

Chapter warnings: Violence, sexual situations, awkward elevator rides.

* * *

_Public Displays of Affection:_

_Protecting You_

The first time he met Tony Stark, Steve had considered the man dangerous. He was headstrong, cocky, way too full of himself, and rushed headlong into situations without all the proper information. Steve knew why Fury had rejected him as a potential SHIELD agent. SHIELD was not the army, but it was military enough. Steve knew how to follow orders. He fit in just fine. Tony was far too used to being on his own, and too accustomed to having people trip over themselves to accommodate him to be a soldier.

This, of course, had not changed in the year since they had met.

_"Is this about the Mutant Registration Act?"_ Tony's voice came clear through their radios, and Steve could only purse his lips in annoyance. They were in the midst of a conflict, and Tony was still so chatty. _"Because if this is about MRA, then you might want to watch out for the reporters. It's not going to look good if they start headlining us against Xavier."_

_"Xavier's the bald guy in the wheelchair, right?"_ Of course, if Tony was talking, Clint was only a step behind.

_"The telepath."_ Natasha was curt, as always. Steve had hoped she would be on his side, keeping the conversation focused on the mission, but she was not a soldier either. Actually, none of them were. Steve was alone in that aspect.

_"That guy scares the shit out of me,"_ Clint declared. _"Hey, Stark. You're rich. You and him… same circles?"_

_"Ah… no. One time meeting me was enough to scar that man for life, I'm sure."_

"Guys, we've got incoming," Steve cautioned. By incoming, he meant there were cars. Flying cars. Some of them had people in them. "Thor!"

_"I shall save them,"_ Thor announced, and he was flying, catching the vehicles that were occupied.

_"Uh… shit. Cap?"_ Tony sounded truly concerned. That, in turn, had Steve instantly on edge. Tony worried was never a good sign. _"Daddy came to play."_

Steve winced. This really was not their fight, he had to admit. But with the X-men still ten minutes out, there was little choice but to attempt some damage control. Usually it was just the Brotherhood, a bunch of hapless young men and women with too much time and anger. They could cause a lot of damage, true, but the one to really look out for rarely made an appearance.

_"Shit. Magneto's here?"_ Clint griped. _"I should have stayed in bed today."_

_"Yes, and Tony needs to get the hell out of here,"_ Natasha remarked. _"Stark."_

"Get to a safe distance, Tony," Steve ordered. For once in his life he hoped Tony listened.

_"Lovely sentiment, but as I said… he's here."_

Something cold and heavy settled in his gut.

"Tony?" he looked up, needing to know where Iron Man was _right now_. "Where are you?"

There was no reply from Tony. Steve searched the city line frantically, searching for explosions. That was always a good sign for Iron Man's location.

_"I've got him in my sights,"_ Clint said tersely. _"Up a block from you, Captain. Bank roof. I'm taking the shot."_

"Do it!" Steve snapped, already running. There was no way he could get there in any short amount of time. Thor was busy saving the people in the cars, and their other resident flyer was trapped on a roof with a guy who could rip apart his exoskeleton with a thought.

It took him awhile to get to the building. Only a block away, it should have taken him less than sixty seconds, but a guy twice his size sent him slamming into a brick wall. That hurt… a lot. But Steve had motivation, and he was up on his feet and throwing his shield before the man could hit him again.

The blow sent the big man staggering, but his recovery time was absurdly short. He was raging forward even as Steve caught his shield on the rebound. Steve knew his limits fairly well, and he knew another hit from that guy would take him out. Fortunately, for as strong as the man was, he was not all that fast.

"I have no quarrel with you." Reasoning with these people never worked, but he was willing to try anything. "We don't have to fight."

The man just laughed in his face and swung again. Steve moved the shield in time to catch the worst of the blow, but it still sent him tumbling down the street. Thank heavens for accelerated healing, because that hurt like a bitch, as Tony would say.

"Tony?" he tried again. "Tony, come _on_."

_"I'm working on it, Cap,"_ Clint said tersely. _"Bastard keeps knocking my arrows aside before they can get close."_

"Is he okay?" He ducked a swing, jumped over a parked car, and took off toward the bank again.

_"He's still alive. I don't know about okay."_

Something struck him from behind. Steve hit the ground hard, less hurt than angry, though he could have ruptured something, and his anger still would have outweighed the pain.

Clint suddenly whooped through the headset. Steve and his attacker looked up in time to see a large green body leap off the roof, something fluttering in his arms.

"Does he have Tony?"

_"No!"_ Clint was laughing. _"That son of a bitch got Magneto!"_

"Is Tony okay?" he demanded again.

_"Ah… can't tell yet. Nat. The Captain could use a little help."_

_"I'm kind of busy. This kid is obnoxiously fast."_

"I'm okay right now."

_"Yeah… you need to get on the roof. I got your six."_

Grateful beyond telling, Steve took off running again. The big guy shouted behind him, but he did not follow. Steve was vaguely aware of something large falling—Clint must have tranquilized the guy—and then he was in the bank, blowing past frightened citizens, and taking the steps three at a time.

_"I lost sight of Stark,"_ Clint announced almost casually. There was worry there, a tension in the words._ "He disappeared when I was covering your ass, Captain."_

"I'm on my way to the roof now," Steve replied, gripping the rail and launching himself up another half flight.

It was a stupid endeavor, he realized by the third floor. He was going to exhaust himself trying to climb a sky scraper. So he startled a few more office workers when he burst into a room filled with cubicles. It was a little awkward and strangely surreal when half of the employees were suddenly looking at him. These people were in a building where a man with unbelievable powers had just been attacking an Avenger, and they had no inkling of anything beyond that moment's paperwork.

"Um…" he managed to find a smile that probably did not look completely frantic. "Could someone direct me to the elevator?"

Silent fingers pointed, and Steve quickly found the lifts. He had to wait a few seconds before it pinged to the third floor, but it was still less time than it would have taken for him to climb seventy flights of stairs.

If it was uncomfortable being in the office, it was downright aggravating when someone stepped into the elevator after him. He turned and frowned, and his fear for Tony shoved aside any concern he had for being polite.

"If that file means you or someone else will not die in the next ten minutes, then feel free to hit any button but the top floor," he snapped. The poor sap who had dared join him in the elevator cringed and generally looked horrified.

"Uh…"

"I'm kind of in a hurry," Steve said bluntly. "Can it wait?"

"I… yeah. Sorry." The man hopped out of the elevator.

"Thank you," Steve managed a weak smile and hit the top button.

He supposed he should feel so lucky that the elevator stopped only twice on his way up, but Steve was not feeling patient. Maybe it was faster than the stairs, but he felt better when he was physically in motion. (Fortunately, no one else attempted to join him, although he got a lot of startled stares.) In the end, it only took about two or three minutes to reach the top floor. From there, he found the roof access. The door was locked, but he blew through it like it wasn't, and he was back in the stairwell.

He never had to go out on the roof. Half a flight down, out of his armor, looking rather like he had fallen down that set of steps, was Tony, curled up on the landing. Steve's heart leapt into his throat. He couldn't tell if the man was even breathing.

"Tony!" he dropped the shield and reached for the crumpled form. "Oh my god, Tony!"

"Ngh…" Steve heaved a sigh of relief at that pained sound. Tony was alive. Not looking good, but he was alive. He grunted, paling when Steve helped him sit up. "For the record… Magneto's an asshole."

_"X-men are here,"_ Natasha announced. _"Can we go home now?"_

"See if you can round up Banner," Steve replied. "Let's get the hell out of here."

_"How's Stark?"_

"Anything broken?" Steve asked warily.

"You mean aside from the suit?" Tony grunted. "I think… yeah, no. Maybe."

_"That sounds good,"_ Clint said wryly. _"Potts is going to kill him."_

Steve would have ordered an ambulance, but he knew better. Tony's dislike for medical facilities was no secret. He would pitch a full on fit if he knew a trip to the hospital was being planned for him. Fortunately, he had his own doctor on staff. From the sounds of Natasha's breathing, she was going to need one too.

"Head on home, guys. Natasha, get your ribs checked out—"

_"Who said anything was wrong with my ribs?"_

Steve did not dignify that with a response. "We'll meet you there."

He turned his attention to Tony, who was looking a little green.

"Can you walk?"

"Oh, absolutely," Tony dredged up a wan smile. Steve frowned, shifting his arm at Tony's back and earning a warning look. "If you attempt to carry me, I will… I don't know. I'll make your room a shrine to Hannah Montana. And Justin Bieber. Maybe throw in a poster of Fury, just to creep you out."

"You're making a reference I don't get, Tony," Steve said gently. "If you faint, I will carry you. Bridal style."

"Incentive to stay awake," Tony said, gripping Steve's arm and clinging when they stood. He was actually a bit more stable than Steve expected him to be, carrying most of his own weight though he shook like a leaf in a tornado.

There should have been another snarky comment after that, but Tony just clenched his jaw and grabbed at the handrail, taking the stairs cautiously. He seemed determined to do it on his own. It was a pride thing. Steve understood and held back, close enough that he could still catch Tony if he fell.

The silence was more worrisome than anything else. Naturally there was the missing armor, but that had been Magneto. Steve could guess what had happened to the suit. He had two guesses as to the reason behind Tony's reticence and pale shakiness, and neither was an option he liked.

"Hey," Steve gripped Tony's elbow as they reached the broken door at the bottom of the stairs. "You okay?"

"Sure." There was another of those thin smiles. "I'm actually pretty sure he didn't break anything. Except the suit. He did a bang-up job on that. And I'm not one to throw around compliments, but he was very thorough in his destruction. I've never seen metal just… melt like that. Without a pretty decent heat source, I mean."

Steve had seen this before in other men. He had some not-so-fond memories of himself like this just after watching Bucky die, and again after waking up from the ice. It happened when a person had to face mortality—specifically their own.

If it was anyone else, Steve might be concerned that he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. However, this was Tony Stark. This man had been blown up and placed in captivity. His response to that had been to build himself armor and blast his way out. This was not a man who freaked out when faced with his own potential death. Not easily anyway.

"Is it too vindictive to hope the Hulk beats the snot out of Magneto?"

Steve hid a smile and pressed the L button on the elevator panel.

_"Magneto got away from him,"_ Clint piped up, reminding Steve that their conversation was not completely private. _"Speaking of Banner…"_

_"Dr. Banner is most distraught,"_ Thor's voice boomed through the headset. Steve winced. Maybe Tony could fix that. _"Perhaps if he were to see Anthony is alive and well, he would be less angry."_

"Oh, uh…" That seemed… incredibly unwise. Hulk could crush any of them without much effort. Perhaps not Thor so easily, but Steve could admit he would never want to be in the way when the Hulk came running through. Outside of his armor, Tony was, physically speaking, the most fragile member of the team.

"What's the deal?" Tony demanded. Steve looked at him guiltily. The man looked exhausted and strung out, and Steve was about to ask him to run back into a battlefield.

"Thor thinks Banner will calm down some if he sees you're okay," he admitted.

"Well, tell him to meet us on the street," Tony said, and it sounded so reasonable when he said it.

_"Excellent!"_ Thor hollered. _"Dr. Banner! Anthony Stark shall meet us on the ground presently!"_

"I don't know if this is wise," Steve muttered.

"Relax, Cap." The elevator door opened on the twenty-sixth floor, and Tony smiled at the shocked pair that started forward and stopped upon seeing two such familiar figures inside. "Going down?"

"We can wait," the woman said flatly.

"Good."

* * *

As it turned out, meeting the Hulk was the best choice they could have made. Steve was a little dumbfounded, but he really should have known by now. Both Banner and his alter-ego had a soft spot for Tony. Were Steve a jealous man, he would have problems with that. Admittedly he was a little envious of the way Tony just let Hulk manhandle him. (Okay, there was not much choice to be had in the matter, since one did not argue with the big guy.) Tony did tease him a bit.

"This is a little weird, buddy," Tony remarked. It was amazing how gentle Hulk could be when he wanted. His hand did not quite wrap all the way around Tony's torso, but it was a near thing. Needless to say, Tony's feet were not even close to the ground, but he had no apparent problem with this. In fact he was grinning, ducking playfully when Hulk's big fingers dragged at his hair before poking mournfully at the glowing circle of light in his chest. "If you start climbing a building with me, I'll have to make a King Kong reference. Since you're obviously the Beast, that would make me Beauty, and while we'll all agree I'm very pretty, Thor's hair is much better suited to the task."

Hulk grunted and glared at him. Tony patted his wrist comfortingly.

"Let's go home, okay?"

Another rough grunt, and Hulk pulled Tony up against his chest, clearly not prepared to let go anytime soon. It was… kind of sweet. Steve realized this was the second time he was comparing Tony to a doll, but apparently he was not the only one around who thought the billionaire was cuddly.

"So very awkward," Tony muttered. "Bruce, buddy. Hulk, what are you—oh crap."

It was the only warning Steve had before Hulk turned and took off down the street. Two big bounds, and Hulk launched himself off the wreckage of a smashed bus to a nearby building.

Thor was laughing heartily, but Steve was fairly certain his heart could not take much more of this. That was _his_ Tony, kept safe by the whim of the Hulk, who had never been particularly careful with anything he touched.

"Come, my friend," Thor wrapped an arm around Steve's back, to which he nearly responded by punching him.

"My god, Thor!" he complained instead. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Anthony is safe," Thor said. It was a little disconcerting how the demi-god could speak straight to the heart of the matter. "I shall take you to him now."

The hammer was swinging, and they lifted off. Flying with Thor was nothing like flying with Iron Man, Steve decided by the time they touched down at Stark Tower.

Hulk landed a few seconds later, dumping Tony on the floor proudly. By some miracle Tony seemed perfectly all right, if a bit shaken. He laughed, and if it was a little too reedy sounding, a little hysterical, well he was justified.

* * *

Steve was not overly surprised when the man disappeared into his workshop. He tried to join him a couple times and was ignored just as completely as if he was not there at all. Tony was focused on his work and even Banner, with all his science jargon, was incapable of drawing him into conversation beyond the project at hand.

A week, Steve swore. He would give it a week, and then he would physically drag Tony out into the real world, where people he cared about were waiting.

Tony must have figured out his deadline, because on the sixth night he emerged.

Steve was sleeping when it happened, but he knew anyway. At around three in the morning his bed dipped, and he startled into wakefulness. Heart pounding, eyes wide, he searched the darkness frantically.

"Hey," Tony's voice was a balm on frayed nerves. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hey yourself," Steve murmured. "What are you doing here?"

That sounded so much worse out loud than he meant in his head. He could almost feel Tony's flinch.

"Sorry," Tony mumbled. "I just… I can go—"

"No, don't," Steve reached blindly, instinctively knowing that he would catch Tony's wrist. He let his fingers curl around it, feeling warm, slightly damp skin twitch beneath his touch. "I didn't mean it like that. I've been worried."

"What for?" Tony gave way easily when Steve pulled him down. There were no protests when Steve wrapped around him, burying his nose in freshly washed hair and pressing his mouth to Tony's temple.

"You locked yourself off for six days," Steve reminded him. "Or hadn't you noticed?"

"Six days," Tony echoed faintly. "Really?"

"I was worried you might starve too," Steve sighed. "Fortunately you'd eat whatever I put on your workstation."

"You brought me food?"

"You thought Jarvis was cooking you dinners?" It would have been more disturbing hearing that Tony did not know he had been in the lab if he had not already witnessed this fact multiple times. Well, it was still upsetting, but Steve was not so shocked.

"I… don't remember eating, actually," Tony sighed, and there were lips on his chin, stretching up until Steve turned his head to meet the kiss. Hands smoothed over his chest, along his side, and down his back. By the time Tony's fingers swept along the curve of his ass, Steve was groaning. Tony chuckled softly, hooked a leg over his, and brought them flush together.

Touching Tony was nothing new. Getting undressed and under the covers was not actually all that uncommon in the past couple weeks. This was, however, the most aggressive Steve had experienced Tony being. Not to say the man sat back and let things happen, but he was not usually so quick to shove Steve on his back and straddle his waist. Steve was thinking it was odd, but his brain was firing straight to his crotch at the moment. It was much easier to just reach up, fist his hand in Tony's hair, and shove his tongue into Tony's mouth.

If there was another thing Tony was good at, it was kissing. Steve could not profess to a lot of experience outside of this relationship, but he knew what he liked. And kissing Tony was amazing.

"God," Tony groaned, pulling back briefly to nip at Steve's ear. "You should do that again."

Steve smirked because, truly, there was nothing quite so ego-boosting as Tony Stark falling over himself to have whatever Steve was offering. Curling an arm around Tony's waist, he rolled over and dove back in. The low whine that reached his ears was proof enough that this had been a good move.

Their clothes were gone, tossed wherever, and Steve took a moment to marvel over the planes of Tony's face, softened by the dark and the blue glow of the arc reactor. Tony was not patient, hips pushing insistently when Steve carded a rough hand through his hair and kissed him again.

He had been so terrified the other day. Magneto had torn apart the Iron Man armor with ease. Had he wanted to, he could have ripped every bit of metal from Tony's body. The arc reactor, the magnet it powered, even the shards in his body. There was some lingering bruising around the arc reactor, proof that the threat had been made, and it was horrifying beyond anything Steve could otherwise imagine. Just the thought that he could have found Tony on that roof with a hole in his chest, torn flesh where any other metal may have shredded through, was enough to make him shudder.

The reactor's light glowed faintly through the hand Steve placed over it. He wanted to press it down, ensure that it would never leave its unlikely home there in Tony's chest. He kissed Tony again to avoid saying this aloud. If the man did not want to talk about it, Steve was not going to force it. But he could touch the reactor and know that, for now, Tony was safe.

Tony was going unusually pliant beneath him. Steve first noticed in the halfhearted, barely there kissing. Then Tony's hands slid without purchase along his arms, one falling over Steve's hand on his chest, the other dropping to the bed. Steve thought he was losing him to sleep, but when he pulled back, Tony was blinking at him, eyes half-mast and looking straight through him.

Everything slowed, and Steve noticed that any arousal Tony had been displaying before was suddenly… just not there. A little horrified, wondering just what the hell he had done to cause this drugged response, Steve pulled back.

"Tony?"

Blinking, moving sluggishly, Tony reacted finally when Steve caught his face. They stared at each other, Tony looking confused, Steve just tremendously relieved.

"Are you okay?" Steve demanded. "What just happened there?"

Tony exhaled, low and long and utterly calm. He looked uncertain but not fearful. Steve tried to calm the frantic pounding of his heart. Everything was fine. Tony was safe. Tony was reaching for him, cool hands skimming over his shoulders without much pressure. He was acting like Clint had the time they had to sedate the archer after he had been shot in the side and proceeded to refuse to allow any doctors near him. (Come to think of it, most of the team went a little touchy around medical staff.)

"Tony?"

"Umhmmm." Tony blinked. Blinked again. Focused. "Oh. Hi."

"Yeah, hi," Steve frowned at him. "Mind telling me what just happened? You were with me for a while there…"

The confusion was back, and Tony looked around as if the room could provide the answer. He cast his gaze down, and realization flooded in. Steve bit back a grateful sigh as those eyes snapped back to meet his.

"I… have no good explanation for this." A forced smile. "I swear that's never happened to me before."

"What did I do wrong?" Steve demanded. "If I did something that triggered—"

"No!" Tony caught at his shoulders, finding purchase this time. "No, you didn't. You didn't do anything wrong."

That was really hard to believe, but Steve let himself be coaxed down to lay beside Tony. The need of before, the sexually charged fervor, was gone. Steve wanted nothing more than to gather Tony to him and hold him, protect him, never let anything bad ever happen again. That was impossible, he knew, but here, in the dark in this bed, he could pretend it was so.

"Can you just…" Tony squirmed and twisted in Steve's admittedly restraining hold until he relented and let the other man adjust himself. Tony shuffled over, claiming Steve's arm as a pillow and tugging at his hand. He felt the faint hum of the arc reactor beneath his palm again, and he did not bother keeping the surprise from his face. But Tony wasn't looking at him. He pulled close and held Steve's hand over his chest and exhaled in a tremulous sigh.

"Tony," Steve breathed, unable to find the power in his gut for more volume than the barest whisper.

"Don't," Tony tucked his nose against Steve's neck. "I don't—please?"

Cold fingers tightened over Steve's pressing down until he gave in and curled around Tony and held fast. It was strange feeling hard metal beneath his hand while in bed with a body of flesh and blood, but for Tony it seemed right. Everything about this man was computers and technology and fast-paced living. Even the arc reactor put out energy, glowing on while Tony breathed, just another part of him that never slept.

"Okay," he sighed. "It's okay."

"Next time," Tony muttered. He looked punch-drunk, sprawled on his back, half clinging to Steve, the rest caught in a state of relaxation, the likes of which Steve had never seen in Tony. "Seriously. Sex next time."

"We'll see," Steve said gently. "Get some sleep."

So they fell asleep, both breathing easily, Steve's hand pressed flat over the arc reactor. Somehow, his hand remained there until he next woke, three hours later.

* * *

TBC...

Aaaaaaand a villain from X-men. Yup. Sigh. (Oh, and remember that elevator scene in the second Spiderman movie? You know the one. I was totally channeling that scene when it occurred to me that even Captain America might have a difficult time running up the many steps of a skyscraper.)


	6. LifeThreatening Hurdles

_Note: _Because no story is complete without its fair share of angst/hurt/comfort.

Warnings: Angst, possibly some ooc-ness.

* * *

_Public Displays of Affection:_

_Life-threatening Hurdles_

Tony didn't talk about it, didn't want to talk about it, but Steve was not a stupid man. He had been half asleep and in a lust haze before, so he forgave himself the moment of confusion. By the morning after, as he lounged in bed, wide awake while Tony continued to sleep like the dead, he understood. At least, he got part of it. Enough to know something interesting was happening.

Maybe it was a little devious, but he used this understanding with fanatic zeal.

It was the same reaction every time. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, Tony did the exact thing.

It did wonders for getting the man to sleep properly. And all it took was a hug. Well, a very specific embrace.

In hindsight, he probably should not have done it in front of Natasha and Bruce. He was rather certain Tony would be having words with him later. To be fair, he barely realized he was doing it. It had become such an ingrained habit, starting with only an arm around Tony as they sat to watch a movie one evening. By the end of the film, Tony had all but forgotten about the tablet he had been working on and rested against Steve's side, utterly sedate.

"What's wrong with Stark?" Natasha frowned, and Steve interpreted that twist of her lips as concern. She did not show much emotion, but he was getting used to figuring her out.

Bruce actually did a double take. Steve had no idea why they would be so concerned. He glanced down at Tony, taking in the half-mast eyelids and even breathing. If not for the fact that his eyes were partly open, Steve would have thought the man asleep. But his eyes tracked the voices, and he was watching Natasha now, as calm as he had ever been when facing the assassin.

"He looks drugged," Banner observed.

"Did you sedate Stark to get him to watch this movie?" Natasha sounded… proud. Steve grimaced.

"No one did anything to anyone," Steve assured them, even as their questions brought Tony back to the present. His sigh was soft and shallow, but he managed a low grunt of annoyance.

"You've trained Stark to be quiet," Natasha declared. "Is this something anyone can do?"

"You… stay away from me," Tony murmured, fingers fumbling to push Steve's hand off his chest. "Stop looking at me like that, Bruce."

"Sorry," Bruce didn't sound sorry at all. "I've just never seen you so still when you're not asleep."

Steve contemplated trying to settle Tony down again, but that would have been unkind. Tony was agitated and uneasy, and Steve knew that—were their positions reversed—he would have been uncomfortable with the taunting. So he let Tony shuffle away, pointedly ignoring the irritated mumbling.

"Is he okay?" Bruce asked after Tony had left the room.

"He's fine," Steve assured him.

"I would love to say your presence is just that calming for him, but your shouting match last week would suggest otherwise," Natasha observed. Steve tried not to wince. The arguing had become less frequent, but he and Tony still could have some pretty spectacular fights. It was usually trivial, and the resulting silence only lasted a day, but it was nothing he wanted to dwell upon. "Which means you did something. Share with the class."

"You're making a big deal of nothing," Steve replied, sternness leaking into his tone as he considered the potential dangers. He realized he had no idea if it was just him, or was it something that happened anytime someone pressed on the arc reactor like that? That seemed like pertinent information. "Tony is fine. No one did anything to him."

Except Steve had, and now he needed to make Tony talk about it.

Crud.

* * *

Steve had a remarkably difficult time locating Tony. He first thought to check the workshop, since that was where the engineer went when something was on his mind. Oddly, it was empty, which left Steve at a loss. It was barely nine, not even close to bedtime for Tony. That meant the bedroom was out (Steve checked anyway—both his and Tony's—just in case). Snacking wasn't really Tony's style (but again, Steve checked the kitchen).

Nearly half an hour of searching passed before Steve realized the utter ridiculousness of his endeavor. If Tony was still in the building there was one very easy way to find out.

"Jarvis, where's Tony?"

"Mr. Stark is on the penthouse suite balcony."

"Thank you."

He found the man just where Jarvis said he would be. The balcony was intimidatingly high, just a stone's throw from the top of the skyscraper, but it never bothered Steve. He had been up higher, and with fewer safety measures. Tony had built the place, had once been thrown through that very window, and yet he seemed perfectly serene, standing at the rail, staring out over the city.

"Hey," Steve announced his arrival even as he slid his arms around Tony's waist and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Tony grunted and looked at the tumbler in his hand. It was almost empty, but he made no move to finish the liquor in it.

"You left pretty abruptly."

"The movie was over," Tony replied, the mild tone all too telling. He was lying.

Steve sighed. He did not want to bring this up—knew Tony would despise it—but he could not let it rest. If it came back and bit them all in the ass, he would hate himself.

"I think we should discuss what's happened the other night, Tony," he said cautiously.

"Erectile dysfunction," Tony said immediately, flashing a rueful grin. "I'm getting old. It's bound to happen."

Steve snorted and rested his head against Tony's, enjoying the soft feel of hair against his cheek. More jokes and lies. Tony was uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you so relaxed, I need to know if it's just me, or if it's what I'm doing that's causing that reaction," he said, determined to carry this through. "If this is something that could happen elsewhere—if someone else takes advantage—"

He cut off, wincing at the way Tony went rigid in his arms. When the man pulled away, Steve let him. There was a strange look in Tony's eyes, and it was not pleasant. It was… it was kind of horrible, and Steve was not sure what to make of it.

"You…" Tony stopped, strangling a moment on his own words. He took a breath and tried again, "When you… you did that thinking it was an involuntary biological response?"

Steve blinked, processing the words, not sure where he had gone wrong but knowing somehow that he had. Terribly so.

"You seemed so relaxed. I just thought…" He had no idea what he had thought. That he liked how docile Tony became when they were relaxing on his bed? That there was something so beyond intoxicating about that hazy way the other man looked at him when Steve held him close, their hands linked over the arc reactor? Yes and yes.

Those were not good enough reasons, he realized. Tony was looking at him, his eyes wide and dark and kind of frightening if he was being perfectly honest. This was not going to end well.

"Are you kidding me?" Tony hissed. His hand tightened on his glass, and Steve was tempted to take it, but this was a really bad time to get protective. Tony was breathing hard, and Steve had never seen that kind of fury directed toward him before. Not from Tony. "You…" And then the billionaire's voice lifted, the anger raging out. "I felt _safe_, Steve! I'd just had Magneto threaten to rip the all the metal out of my chest! And when you were there, and you… _God_, you moron! What the hell?"

Somewhere between the cringing and the wishing to be away from the yelling, Steve felt something warm bubble in his chest. His mind latched onto what Tony was saying, and it felt so _good_ to hear that he could provide that kind of security for the man. He had felt so utterly useless that day, but to think Tony felt he could protect him with just his hand against the likes of Magneto's power was unbelievably heady.

"You do?" he asked, his voice embarrassingly small.

"I damn well don't _now_, you fucking prick!" It was a good thing Tony wasn't aiming that glass tumbler at Steve, because after that statement he was utterly rooted in place. The sound of the glass shattering against the wall behind him somewhere was enough to make him flinch but not nearly enough to make him move. "What did you _think_ was happening? You thought you could push a button on my chest and make me shut up? Shut me down like some battery operated toy? _Jesus—!_"

Tony was walking away, and there was nothing Steve could do to stop it.

"Tony—"

"Go fuck yourself, Captain."

"I never meant—"

"_Don't_ touch me!" Steve recoiled, burned horribly. It was not physical, and it wasn't his hand, but it hurt all the same. The door was on a soft hinge, catching and slowly closing when Tony stormed through and shoved it back. Steve might have felt better if it had slammed. As it was, he could only stare at Tony's retreating back and wonder how the hell he was going to fix this.

* * *

Perhaps ten minutes passed before everyone in the tower knew something was up. Steve liked to think he was subtle enough that he could have kept it under wraps until he straightened things out with Tony, but he suspected that was just wishful thinking. He was a terrible liar, and Bruce was like the human lie-detector. Well, he could always tell when _Steve_ was lying anyway.

However, none of that was necessary. He moved slowly, making his way back down to the main living levels. (They each had a floor of their own, but there was a centralized kitchen and dining area, not to mention an entertainment room on their own level. Frequently the tenants of the tower convened here for lack of a better place to hang out.) He had just come down the stairs to the kitchen when he saw Clint had returned from wherever it was he had been. A date, supposedly, but Steve never really knew.

Natasha was there as well, holding Clint's head in place with one hand, her other hand pressing a towel to his face. It looked like she was trying to suffocate him, which was a bit alarming. However, her grip was not that strong, and both she and Clint looked up at him when he made a startled, questing noise.

Steve saw the blood then.

"What happened?" he blurted, immediately moving to check the damage. That looked like a lot of blood on the towel.

"Bloody nose," Natasha said bluntly. She pulled it away from Clint's face, grimaced when red drained rapidly from his nostrils, bloodying his lips and chin almost instantly, and pressed the towel gently back into place. "I don't think it's broken."

"Doesn't feel like it," Clint mumbled from behind the cloth.

"You've always been a bit of a bleeder," Natasha said fondly. She shot Steve a dark look. "It was bad timing. He made a bad joke and took an elbow to the face."

"Pretty impressive, actually," Clint remarked. "I didn't think Stark had it in him."

"Tony _hit you?_" Horrified as he was, Steve was not that surprised. Tony was not usually the type for violent outbursts, but that glass had flown earlier. Clint was not the most tactful person either. Steve did not even want to know what he had said to set Tony off.

"He made a comment about you two having a lovers' spat," Natasha declared, despite Steve's silent misgivings.

"You did, didn't you?" Clint groaned. "Damn it. Now I have to apologize."

"You didn't know," Natasha said mildly.

"That's not something to joke about anyway," Steve said, a little miffed even as he felt bad for the blood still flowing from Clint's nose. "Did you see which way he went?"

"His workshop. You know how he gets when he's agitated," Natasha remarked, digging through the freezer. She dumped some ice in a baggie and eased it into the towel. Cliff grunted and nodded, waving her off and holding it himself. "Bruce went to try to calm him down."

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Bruce came into the kitchen. Returning so quickly was not a good sign. He grimaced and rubbed at his forehead anxiously.

"He locked me out of the workshop," he told them.

That was alarming. Tony _never_ locked Bruce out of his workshop. Everyone else, yes. Never Banner.

"This is about our teasing earlier," Bruce declared, not remotely dubious of that fact. "At least, it's part of it."

"I'll try to talk to him," Steve said dully. It had to be done, but he knew it was too soon. If Tony had locked Bruce out, there was no one who would get through those doors. Steve, Thor, and the Hulk would stand a chance, but Bruce was wrong about one thing. This was about trust, and Tony's lack of it in him. If anyone tried to physically break through the smart glass in Tony's lab, there would be no recovering from this argument. Steve had not known Tony that long—not really—but he knew that much.

Bruce caught up with him outside the elevator. Steve knew he must look horrible if Bruce was giving him that tight smile.

"It might be better if you let him cool down awhile," the scientist suggested. "He's… well Tony's not the type to hold a grudge. But if you catch him hot, you really don't stand a chance."

"I don't actually expect to get past the doors," Steve admitted.

"Leave it," Bruce caught his elbow and pulled him into the elevator, punching the button for his own labs. "We'll talk."

* * *

It was strange, Steve thought, how much of a person was in the space that meant the most to them. Both Tony and Bruce spent a great deal of time and energy in their respective workspaces. Somehow, Steve felt he could see each of them in the room. He would know exactly what kind of person they were, just by looking at the workshop or the lab.

Tony's workshop, for example, always looked like an explosion of ideas. It was a flurry of activity, always buzzing with life, day in and day out. It never slept and was pushing every limit of possibility. It was Tony in a collection of machines, computers, and mess.

Bruce's lab, on the other hand, was pristine. Each experiment was carefully organized, notes written in a strangely precise scrawl across notebooks lined up with the corners of the table. Some of the experiments were dangerous—deadly even—but all were kept under tight control.

Bruce pulled out a stool on wheels and shoved a desk chair in Steve's direction. Papers fluttered, two falling from a table, which Bruce ignored.

Because when Tony and Bruce meshed, a little of that control flew away. Some of the chaos was brought to heel. They worked so perfectly together.

So why the hell had Tony decided he wanted to date Steve and not Bruce?

"You don't control who you're in love with," Bruce said. Steve realized he spoken aloud. He turned the chair and sat across from Bruce, sagging and closing his eyes wearily.

"You think you can love someone you don't trust?" he asked, defeated.

"Of course," Bruce said wryly. "Who doesn't trust whom?"

Leave it to Banner to get straight to the heart of the matter. Steve grimaced.

"I… I screwed up, Bruce," he reluctantly admitted. "I don't know how to fix it."

"First, tell me what happened."

So he did. He told him about everything, not even flinching away from the explanation of his and Tony's near-sexual encounter. It had not really happened anyway. Steve told Bruce about the following nights, about dragging Tony out of his workshop, taking him to bed, resting a hand over the cool light of the reactor and watching the tension go out of his body.

"I didn't even know I was doing it," Steve said eventually, helplessly. "Until Natasha commented on it."

"That makes a great deal of sense, actually," Bruce wiped his glasses with a cloth and peered through them critically before settling them on his nose. "He likes to play it up, but he's as insecure as any of us."

"I think I just made him afraid of me," Steve admitted, feeling no small amount of fear himself at the mere thought. Bruce, on the other hand, just snorted softly. The man looked rueful when Steve shot him an incredulous look.

"Sorry. You're talking about the man who treats the other guy like he's just an overgrown toddler. I know. I've seen some of the footage."

"He trusts you not to hurt him," Steve said mournfully. Bruce knocked on the table, and Steve looked at him. The scientist was glaring at him, considering him like he thought Steve was an idiot with his head up his butt. Maybe he was.

"What this says to me is that Tony has little respect for his own physical wellbeing," Bruce said sternly. "If the other guy decides to go at him, it'll be fast. He'll die before he has time to think about it. You, on the other hand, are in a great position to hurt him."

"I wasn't trying—"

"Stop talking and listen. You're as bad as he is."

"Sorry."

That was the first time anyone had ever compared Steve to Tony. Bruce meant it in a negative respect (completely fond and totally exasperated), but Steve found it almost pleasant. That meant something, right?

"He's not stupid, Captain," Bruce smiled faintly. "When he cools down, he'll think about it and remember exactly who you are."

"His boyfriend?" Steve asked hopefully.

"Steve Rogers, Captain America," Bruce corrected. "Kind, gentle, proper—a good man."

"You think he'll just get over this," Steve was skeptical. Bruce had not been there when that glass had flown. Tony never got violent. Not as a knee-jerk reaction. Any violence was usually preceded by a frightening sense of calm, usually in battle, and usually completely premeditated. (That was probably something to be wary of, but Steve never was.)

"Oh, be prepared to do some groveling," Bruce offered a lopsided smile. "I never said he wouldn't make you work for it. I just think he'll figure out he doesn't have the whole story."

Steve sighed.

No one ever said being in a relationship was easy. And if normal relationships were challenging, one with Tony Stark was bound to be filled with life-threatening hurdles.

* * *

It was worse, somehow, than the time when Magneto had gotten his hands on Tony. Then, at least, Steve knew it had not been his fault. Not really. Then he had a plan, a timeframe, and an awareness that if he were to force his way into Tony's face, it would not end in bloodshed.

Perhaps he was exaggerating. Just because Tony had hit Clint in the face did not mean he would do the same for Steve.

Pepper came three days in. Steve did not see her when she arrived. He did not know what to do with himself lately, so he was out on a run. It was not until he came back that Bruce informed him.

"Miss Potts is down in the lab with him," Bruce said, handing him a glass of water as he came into the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready soon. Go clean up."

There was little point in defying Banner, so Steve wandered up to his room to shower and change. Fifteen minutes later, he had missed a second appearance by Miss Potts. She had emerged briefly, then disappeared again almost immediately, taking a plate of dinner down to her employer. This was good, at least. Steve had not seen Tony in three days. He had no idea if the man was eating.

"She say anything?" Steve asked, pathetically hopeful.

"No, but I might make myself scarce if I were you," Bruce said, thoughtfully spearing a cut of chicken. "She did not seem happy."

"I'm surprised he let her into the lab."

Steve knew Tony had dated Pepper for a while. He knew she had been working for Stark for a lot longer. What he did not know, was never capable of understanding, was the true depths of their relationship. While he had seen them in action, watched as Pepper moved in and through Tony's space with knowledge and patience, he never understood quite what it was about this woman that put Tony so at ease. Sometimes he was almost jealous of it.

Like now. Because not even _Bruce_ could get into the lab, but Pepper—who no longer lived at the tower—could just walk in and make Tony eat.

"She's mad at me?" he asked when Bruce said nothing to his last observation.

"I don't pretend to understand those two. But she was upset, and I know _I_ wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of that."

Bruce was right. Pepper was intimidating as hell. Steve would rather face down Natasha in a fight than have to meet Pepper's eye when she was angry.

Such as it was, he was lurking in the next room when she came upstairs again.

"I'll be back in a couple days," he heard her say to Bruce over the clanking of dishes. Technically, since Bruce cooked, it was Steve's turn to do dishes. However, under the circumstances, Steve promised to do the dishes for the next two days. "He's sleeping now. Cheeseburgers and bourbon are probably the two best ways to get him out of that lab—but please try to keep him away from the alcohol."

"I'll do my best."

"I made him promise not to access the Iron Man armor while he's inebriated," Pepper said, like a parent listing off vital information for the babysitter. "Jarvis will monitor the blood alcohol levels and make the call, so you don't have to worry about that."

"Are you okay?" Bruce sounded concerned. Steve did not blame him. For all that Pepper tried to sound no nonsense, she also sounded agitated, near tears.

A sniff, and then, "I'm fine."

"You're a terrible liar." She really was. Even just listening (eavesdropping), Steve could tell.

"I know. Thank you, Bruce. Try not to kill him while he's being like this, okay?"

"I'll wait until he's feeling better."

Pepper gave a watery laugh.

"That's all I can ask."

Steve collapsed back on the couch, letting his sketchpad drop, all pretense of just minding his own business (_no, I wasn't listening, I was just in this room drawing those curtains_) gone. He was not usually one to lay around like a slug indulging in self-pity, but even he would have to admit that was exactly what he was doing. He did not try to pretend any differently when Bruce appeared beside the sofa, looking down at him.

"Happy now?" Bruce asked. It was a little mean of him to do so, and Steve cracked an eye to glare at him for it. He forgot, sometimes, that Bruce was not just a mild-mannered scientist when he wasn't a raging green Hulk. Bruce just hid his angry, mean side a little better.

"I am the world's biggest asshole," Steve declared.

"According to some, you're _dating_ the world's biggest asshole," Bruce retorted. "Now go finish washing the pans. I've got a particle analysis waiting for me."

* * *

The next time he saw Tony, there was a giant robot octopus attacking the city. It rose out of the bay and stormed Manhattan like this wasn't Avenger's Central. Like they wouldn't find out and be there in five minutes.

The call came—_Avengers Assemble!_—and they were dressed and staring up at a fifteen-story tall machine with eight prehensile legs that took out small buildings when it turned.

Steve had never missed Thor so much in his life.

_"What do you think, Cap?"_ Clint's voice came in over the radio. _"Take out its legs?"_

"We might have to," Steve glanced at Bruce, who was considering the machine with mild disinterest. "Hulk might be able to take out the main body—minimize casualties."

"Maybe. We should try to knock this thing back toward the water," Bruce said.

"Do it."

Bruce shrugged off his shirt, tossed it, and he was growing. It was never anything less than impressive to see the Hulk take over. Nor was it ever less heart-stopping when the big guy bellowed and launched himself into the air.

An arrow flew, hit a leg, and an explosion set the machine to staggering. Steve threw his shield, winced when it bounced off a leg without much effect. A slight sway, but the robot was moving again, and Hulk was beating at the upper body angrily, and it continued into the city with a moan of metal on metal.

_"Any other ideas?"_ Natasha was probably watching the proceedings from a rooftop. Her skills did not include beating back a giant robot squid.

_"I can separate the legs from the body."_

It took a great deal of self-control not to flinch at the sound of Tony's voice. It was the first he had heard from the man in over a week.

He sounded so perfectly normal.

_"Collateral damage might be kind of high. Anyone left in the buildings?"_

_"We cleared them out. Knock him down, cowboy,"_ Clint encouraged.

Steve heard the whine of the repulsor thrusters an instant before Iron Man appeared high over his head. Red and gold hovered, considering, before aiming an arm at the machine.

_"Hold on to your socks,"_ Tony sounded a little wary. Steve watched, curious at the lasers shooting out at the monster. The next thing Tony said was very loud, and Steve realized he had dropped off the radio and was blasting audio at the machine—and at Hulk. "HULK! MOVE!"

The Hulk hesitated only for a moment before leaping off to an adjacent building. Just in time to avoid the massive beam of light that burst from Iron Man's chest plate.

Steve ducked, shield automatically coming up. That was something new. It seemed that Tony had not been idle in his time spent sequestered in his lab.

_"What the hell was that?"_ Natasha sounded irritated.

_"Cap, watch it!"_ Clint's sudden panic made Steve aware that he had been a little too focused on Tony's new attack. So focused that he missed the legs of the robot tumbling down like giant limp metal noodles.

Barely thinking, he flung the shield at the one headed straight for him, hoping to change its trajectory, and took off running.

It wasn't going to be enough. The leg probably weighed a couple tons. He was not going to survive that kind of blow.

Then he was airborne, gasping as the air was stolen from around him. He recognized the feel of metal arms around him an instant before Tony dumped him unceremoniously on the roof next to Clint. His fall was admittedly less than graceful, but he rolled to his feet almost immediately.

"Thank—" Steve got out before Tony was blasting away again, presumably to assist Hulk in the final decimation of the robot. "…you."

"Still not talking," Clint observed, unnecessarily in Steve's opinion. Nor did he really appreciate the friendly slap on the back. "Look on the bright side. He saved your life."

"Tony wouldn't have let one of us die if he could stop it," Steve said sourly. "He's not the type of man to do that."

Clint looked at him with a healthy dose of skepticism, and Steve faltered. Tony wouldn't let a man die… would he?

"Uh, you read his debriefing from Afghanistan, didn't you?" Clint asked warily.

"I read the file Fury gave me." Something he later understood to be only a brief overview. No thanks to that file, he had drawn some very unfortunate conclusions. After that, he had taken it upon himself to learn more about _all_ of the Avengers. Tony, though, was as mercurial as a man could get. Just when Steve thought he understood the man, he realized he really didn't.

"Right," Clint nodded toward the roof access door. Steve trotted along beside him dutifully. The battle was over but for the cleanup now. "Okay, your boy's a killer. Not the premeditative kind, but I can say he's deliberately caused the deaths of at least half a dozen men. Those are just the confirmed deaths, but the number is probably way higher. So yeah, if he really hated you, he would have let that thing crush you."

Steve cringed a bit at the remark. It was unpleasant, but no more than thinking of the people _he_ had killed. Or Natasha. Clint. The Hulk. All of them were killers in their own way. Steve didn't know much about Thor's history, but the man was a warrior on his own claim. No doubt he had killed in battle.

He thought it said something a little dark about all of them that he actually found Clint's words comforting.

* * *

TBC...


	7. PDA

_Note: _This was originally the last chapter of the story, but I had issues leaving it like this. So there's one more chapter. However, I'm out of town this weekend, so it won't be out until Sunday night or Monday morning. (I was going to wait on _this_ chapter until then, but I felt bad leaving it alone after the last one.)

_Warnings: _Angst, schmoop, mentions of Oprah.

* * *

_Public Displays of Affection:_

_PDA_

It had been nearly two weeks of Tony studiously avoiding everyone but Pepper. The first few days Steve had thought he would go out of his mind. By the week's end he was convinced he had destroyed anything good there had been between himself and Stark. After Clint's words, he thought maybe he had a chance, but then the door to the lab had been locked, and Bruce was still banned.

It was the end of the second week, and Steve felt a dark weight of acceptance.

He did wonder how the man managed to avoid them all so completely. As far as he was aware, there were no secret entrances to the workshop. Yet Tony had to be eating, drinking, and taking care of general hygiene, right? Plus, regardless of the fact that Pepper pretty much ran the show, Tony Stark was still a major figurehead of a multibillion dollar corporation, and occasionally he had to make an appearance. Didn't he?

Steve stared at the drawing in his pad and wondered when the hell he had lost himself so completely to this impossible man. Two weeks of being frozen out, and he was _drawing_ Tony. No matter what he did, he could not make the image look anything but sad. He really needed to learn how to translate anything but his emotion of the moment onto paper. As it was, it was after midnight, and he wasn't out to impress anyone.

A bottle of scotch clunked to the counter in front of him. Steve blinked as two glasses appeared beside the expensive looking liquor, barely daring to look up. There was only one person he even _knew_ who liked that brand of liquor.

Tony looked wan and too thin under the dimmed kitchen lights, but Steve chose not to remark on it. That would come later, when he knew where he stood. For now, he also opted not to remind Tony that he was incapable of feeling the mellowing effects of the alcohol. The first thing he said to the man in two weeks was not going to be some negative comment. So he just watched as Tony dropped ice in the glasses and filled each with a little too much liquid.

"Nice drawing."

The drawing wasn't nice. It was Tony, sitting on nothing, looking for the world like he wanted not to be in it. Steve kept trying to make the man in the picture look less like he wanted to die and more… well, anything but that. But his emotions kept getting in the way. And his memory of the way Tony had last looked at him.

Tony just looked tired now. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes, and his hand trembled ever so slightly, ice clinking in protest in his glass. Steve picked up the glass that was obviously meant for him and noted that his hand never shook.

He sighed.

"Tony, I'm so s—"

"If you apologize to me, I'll throw this drink in your face."

There was not much he could say to that. Steve looked up, bewildered and utterly crushed. Because if Tony did not want to hear it, then what could Steve _do?_

"Just tell me what was going through that blond head of yours," Tony said wearily. For a moment Steve thought he had voiced his fears, but he realized this was something Tony really wanted. It had nothing to do with his own insecurities.

"It's not all completely nice." Because he had to say it. If Tony was going to hear this, then he would hear all of it. The truth of it.

"I don't really care," Tony sighed. "Just spit it out, Rogers."

He took a breath. Braced himself. Released the sigh. And spoke.

"I was scared," he said. "When Magneto had you. I thought you would be dead by the time I got to you."

Normally, Tony would have something to say here. Something light and a little mean. But he just sipped his scotch and stared at Steve, waiting.

"That first night, when you came to me, I just felt… I wanted to know your heart was safe, like I could hold the reactor in against people like Magneto, who tried to take it." It sounded so stupid. Like he could ever truly battle against Magneto's powers. "It made you so calm and relaxed when I would hold the reactor, I just got carried away with it. I liked it—I liked seeing you relaxed. You seemed to sleep better. And you would just move where I put you."

This was the bad part. Steve closed his eyes, because this part he actually was ashamed of. This more than the tentative loss of trust. Because that had been stupidity on his behalf, and really not something he considered until after Natasha brought it up. His fault for not being clear right away. But he really needed this out there, off his chest. Tony was letting him say it.

"I… _liked_ it. I liked thinking I could do just about anything and that you'd let me. I liked holding you and putting myself between you and the world because you never let me do that otherwise. And I liked thinking I could control everything we did, because you just looked at me and laid there, and I _could have_ pushed, and I really felt you would have let me do anything. It was humbling… but very empowering."

Tony swirled his drink before tossing the rest back and setting the glass aside. Steve had only sipped at his. It burned down his throat, but it just sat heavy in his stomach.

"I don't have any off buttons, you know," Tony said softly.

"I didn't think much about it until Natasha mentioned…" Steve started, then cut off. It felt like an excuse. "I never meant it as a means to shut you up. I mean, sometimes it's nice when you don't talk so much—you say so much without saying anything sometimes—but that wasn't it. I know I don't control you, but sometimes it's kind of nice to think I can. Just enough to be sure I won't lose you."

That was a mess. It barely made sense in his own head let alone aloud. But Tony was the master of inane babble, and if anyone could figure out what Steve meant, it would be him.

Tony reached out, took the scotch Steve had been halfheartedly nursing, and drank that as well. The glass clinked gently on the counter.

"I'm really tired, Steve," Tony murmured.

He moved almost without conscious thought, rounding the counter and moving to intercept as Tony sagged.

"You haven't been eating," he said, a gentle reminder.

"We'll discuss that when we discuss your penchant for dominance," Tony replied, his words muffled against Steve's shoulder. And god, it felt so good to hold Tony against him like this. It felt even better when Tony's arm curled around his neck of its own accord. "Can we just sleep now?"

He probably should have made Tony eat something first. But Steve was not a doctor, and he was just so grateful to have this moment that he agreed wholeheartedly to Tony's request. He was liable to choke if Steve tried to feed him. Tony was a hair's breadth from passing out from exhaustion anyway.

Steve knew this because Tony made not even the slightest noise of protest when Steve scooped him off the floor. He rested his head on Steve's collar, and if he could have pressed even closer, Steve thought he might try.

He brought them to his room because it was closer. Tony was shivering, and Steve felt himself pick up the motion, so he felt it might be wiser to get them buried in a pile of blankets as quickly as possible.

"I'm really sorry."

Steve drew back enough to look down at Tony in shock. But Tony was clinging to him desperately, refusing to leave his nest of Steve's shoulder and arms.

"I've been such a dick about this," Tony mumbled before Steve could think too hard on why the billionaire should even think he needed to apologize. "I'm surprised you didn't dump my ass for someone nicer and prettier already."

"You're the most generous person I have ever met," Steve retorted. "And you're gorgeous, so finding someone prettier would be a challenge I don't think I would win."

"God, you're so fucking perfect," Tony groaned. "If I cry for a while here, will you pretend it never happened?"

Steve curled himself around Tony, barely noticing the press of the arc reactor against his chest. He didn't touch it—wouldn't be able to for a while now—not the same way.

"Let's call it an even trade," he murmured, because his face was wet, though he could not recall when he started crying. He cared less about that, but if Tony wanted to pretend he wasn't pressed into Steve's shoulder and shaking like he would fly apart, then Steve would not deny him that privacy. He just drew the blanket up and smoothed a hand over the mess of Tony's hair and listened as the man's ragged breathing smoothed into gentle almost-snoring.

As Tony slept, Steve felt something in him unfurl. He had no idea he was so tired, but exhaustion rushed up on him like a tidal wave. He pressed his nose to Tony's hair, letting himself drift off to the smell of grease and oil and sweat and booze. Hardly romantic, he supposed, but at the moment he was completely content.

* * *

Steve usually did not require the kind of sleep most people did, but that night he slept a solid eight hours. The sun was high when he finally opened his eyes, and he sighed, glancing around his empty room. There was a brief moment of utter dejection at waking alone, a part of him wondering if he had come up with the previous night in his absolute exhaustion. But he had slept plenty now, and he knew he was not imagining the grease stains on his sheets or the faint reek of sweat and tears on the pillows.

He took a few minutes to shower and dress before wandering down to the kitchen. He was hungry, and he expected he had missed any breakfast Bruce may have already prepared. The man was a wonder in the lab _and_ the kitchen, truly. Steve's stomach was never sorry for Bruce's presence.

It all seemed so normal, walking into the room and seeing Clint bent over a newspaper article at the table. Neither Natasha nor Thor was present, but Natasha was more about nighttime, and Thor was still visiting Jane. Bruce was actually standing in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, talking about something complicated with Tony, who was sipping coffee and sitting at the counter opposite of him.

Just like hundreds of mornings before.

Steve's brain seemed to disconnect at that point. He was not thinking at all, walking up behind Tony and wrapping himself around the man. Tony had showered. His hair smelled of the exorbitantly expensive herbal shampoo he used. Steve buried himself in it, just breathing in the smell and completely uncaring of the fact that he was never this forward when they were not alone.

No one even commented. Bruce kept talking, Tony replying with something Steve did not follow. The only reaction he got out of it was that Tony put down his coffee and curved his arm around Steve's waist, pulling them close and letting Steve just lean on him like a child clinging to his mother.

It was the most wonderful thing Steve had ever experienced.

Then Clint had to come and interrupt. Steve hated him for it. Just a little. Okay, not really, but he did harbor a fair bit of resentment for a few seconds.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Barton said, appearing beside Bruce in the kitchen. "Remember what Banner said about PDA?"

Steve pried his face from Tony's neck long enough to see the newspaper Clint slapped down on the counter. Tony hummed and pulled it toward him, turning the page until he could see the image plastered across it.

It was a picture of Steve and Tony embracing. Steve frowned at it, taking in the pose and the background, and that half-empty tumbler in Tony's hand. It was a picture of them on the balcony of Stark Tower. It must have been taken just before their fight, when Steve had come out and hugged Tony from behind and kissed him on the head, just like that.

Above the image was a headline, big and bold and damning.

_**STARK AND ROGERS: GAY IN AMERICA?**_

"Whoever took this photo must have had one hell of a telephotographic lens," Tony remarked. He caught the paper, flipping to the next page to reveal more photographs. A close up of Steve kissing Tony's head. One of their faces, Tony's smile tight, Steve looking strained. It actually was not very flattering, though Steve was grateful there were not any pictures of the actual fight that followed this particular scene. "Ugh. You look kind of constipated there, Cap."

"I warned you," Bruce said, looking amused at the images.

"You're so going to get hate mail," Clint grinned at Tony as he said this. "Do you know how many girls out there were hoping that Captain America would fall in love with them?"

"I'll just toss them in the pile with the rest of the burn-in-hell mail I get," Tony said indifferently.

"You get hate mail?" Steve asked, and he wondered how he did not notice this.

"Pepper usually filters it out before it gets to me," Tony shrugged. "I actually get a lot less now since shutting down the weapons manufacturing plant. Cap, I'm going to have anything mailed to you filtered through Stark Industries."

"You think _I'm_ going to start getting hate mail?" Steve was appalled. He had thought the world was beyond this, at least.

"Well, it's not the forties, but gay relationships are still controversial," Tony pulled out his phone and winced. "Pepper saw the article. Damn it."

"Freak out time?" Clint inquired cheekily.

"This wasn't even my fault," Tony griped. Steve was torn between wanting to reassure him—though he had no idea what he could do in this situation—and a guilty sense of pleasure when Tony sighed and clung a little more tightly. He tapped the phone and set it on the counter. "Not my fault, Pepper."

"It doesn't matter, Tony," Pepper's voice was loud and clear. If Steve did not know better, he would swear she was in the kitchen with them. As it was, he could see her face on the phone, and it was not just an image. She looked frustrated. "We need to put a spin on this before the conservatives can rip into you."

"Those jackasses have always hated me. This is nothing new."

"Who took the picture?" Clint tossed in.

"Go away," Tony hissed. For Pepper, he put on a winning smile. "What are _you_ suggesting, Miss Potts?"

She scrutinized Tony, and Steve tensed slightly when her eyes flicked over him as well. Pepper had known of their fight, although Steve did not know how much she knew, and he was vividly aware that she was on Tony's side first and foremost. He did not know if she was angry with him.

"It's not press conference worthy," she said finally. "You can either ignore it and hope it goes away—which it will, if you never get caught together again, which I can see will never happen—" Steve flushed. "—or we can promote the two of you."

"You want me to go Hollywood on this shit?" Tony twisted, and Steve shifted uncomfortably under that contemplative stare. He had no idea what Tony and Pepper were talking about, and he probably did not want to know. But he was going to learn. This did involve him after all. "Okay," Tony turned back to his phone and, by extension, Pepper. "Find one of the charities I promote, and get us an invite to the next event."

"We've got talk shows calling," Pepper advised.

"Really?" Tony grinned. "Which ones?"

"Regis and Kelly, The View, Bonnie Hunt, Letterman. Oprah, Ellen."

"Put me on Ellen."

"I love Ellen," Bruce remarked, much to Steve's surprise. The man shrugged when he caught Steve staring. "She's funny."

Tony snorted.

"Do it," he said, otherwise ignoring his companions. "If Oprah's people are persistent, take her too." To Steve, he offered, "Oprah is the most powerful woman in the _world_. If she promotes it, every other woman in America will fall over themselves for it."

"Okay," Pepper sighed. "I think we can manage this. Stocks seem to be holding, but it's early stages. I'll text you the dates and times—_don't_ be late for these, Tony."

"I'll behave."

"Good," Pepper took a deep breath, looking to be calming herself. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"That'll be all, Miss Potts," Tony said solemnly. He paused, smiled, and added, "Thanks, Pep."

Her face twisted, and Steve could _swear_ she was glaring at him, and the phone went dark.

"She's still pissed at you," Bruce murmured. Steve winced.

"Quiet in the peanut gallery," Tony said cheerily. He spun on his stool, and Steve shifted automatically, catching Tony's hands in his. "So, we've been outed to the world. In the words of the press and my first and last psychiatrist: How does this make you feel?"

Steve stared at Tony for a long moment. If he had answered that question instantly, he would have had to say he felt overwhelmed. He had just woken up with the intent of spending a quiet morning with his—lover? boyfriend? partner?—_Tony_, and suddenly they were being thrown in front of the media bus.

But he considered the man in front of him, that cocky grin not quite hiding the anxiety shifting behind his eyes. The tousle of hair where Tony had failed to style it this morning. The tired circles under his eyes that would fade with a few more days of decent sleep. And his hands, clutching rather than simply holding.

Steve smiled. He loved this crazy man so much.

"Bring it on."

The uncertainty fled from Tony's eyes.

Then Clint burst out laughing, which kind of ruined the moment. But Steve was okay with the laughter because it quickly changed to a whoop and a whistle when Tony grabbed him and dragged him in for a hard kiss.

* * *

TBC...


	8. Patiently Waiting

_Notes: _This is kind of a bonus chapter. The last one was the title chapter, and it was going to be the end, but I realized there was something that had yet to be resolved. Thus, this last chapter was born.

And yes, this chapter forced me to up the rating to M.

* * *

_Public Displays of Affection:_

_Patiently Waiting_

Their six-month anniversary was coming up. It landed on a Saturday, which Steve thought was opportune. That meant Tony would not be caught with anything business-related. If anything Avengers-related came up, they would have to deal with it, but at least they would be together. (Although Steve would admit to some unsavory thoughts about just letting the others handle anything that came their way.)

Tony did not mention anything about it, but that was not surprising. While the man was actually a bit of a closeted romantic, he was not good with sentimental moments. He knew they were there. He was just bad at remembering the whens, wheres, and hows. (Sometimes the whos and whys.)

Steve was gratified to know that Tony was not deliberately ignoring this landmark. A couple weeks ago he had started researching into the matter, and he quickly discovered that Tony had marked the date on his calendar and told Jarvis _and_ Pepper to remind him of it as it grew near.

It was devious of him, but Steve had a plan. He knew it was a good plan because he consulted with Bruce and Pepper (the latter of whom had long since forgiven him for his huge gaffe months ago—the woman was a saint, seriously). These were the people who knew Tony best, and Steve was not above using them as a resource.

"I'm not good at lying to him," Pepper had warned him when Steve took her and Bruce to lunch one afternoon.

_"Then don't lie," Bruce said. He made a vague gesture with his fork before poking at his salad, deciding whether or not he wanted to finish it. "Just avoid the subject. He won't call you on avoidance. He figures if you don't want to tell him something, then he probably doesn't want to know."_

_"When we're done with this anniversary stuff, I need your help figuring out how to tell him I'm seeing someone again," Pepper murmured._

_Steve winced. Bruce nodded._

_"He'll be fine with it," the scientist assured both of them. "He's happy. He wants you to be happy."_

_There was little choice but to believe him. Of all of them, Bruce had been the last to meet Tony. Somehow, he was the one who understood the eccentric billionaire better than anyone. Even Pepper, who had known Tony going on fifteen years, could not claim to know what was going through her former boyfriend's head. Steve thought he sometimes knew, but they were such different creatures that he never did understand. Not really._

_He just accepted and adored._

_"He's got that sappy look on his face again," Bruce muttered._

_"Back with us, Steven," Pepper said kindly. Steve flushed and focused on the meeting._

Jarvis had actually been the most difficult one to bargain with. Steve had begun to think of the AI as almost human, but there was no denying what Jarvis actually was.

"Captain Rogers, you are asking me to countermand Mr. Stark's direct command," Jarvis said in all mildness.

"Can't you just… distract him a bit?" Steve wheedled. "Override that order?"

"I do not override Mr. Stark's commands, Captain Rogers."

"Why not?" Steve was being petulant, but he had a plan damn it! Jarvis was going to ruin it.

"My command code is set to respond to Mr. Stark's requests," Jarvis answered reasonably. "Only another programmer could override that code. May I advise against reprogramming me, Captain Rogers. Mr. Stark would be displeased."

"I'm not going to reprogram you, Jarvis," Steve huffed. "I wouldn't know where to begin." He paused, then perked up. "What if you had another order?"

"Only Virginia Potts has the ability to bypass Mr. Stark's authorization code," Jarvis declared.

"Excellent!" Steve pulled out his phone and texted Pepper. (The woman did not appreciate calls during the business day, he knew. She responded much better to texting, so Steve had since learned how to text. Clint was an excellent instructor.) "Thanks, Jarvis."

"Anything I can do to help, Captain Rogers."

If Steve didn't know better, he would think that Jarvis was being devious. What's more, the supercomputer was _enjoying_ it.

Well, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He grinned when Pepper texted back.

* * *

"Bruce, do you have a moment?"

It was Friday, and so far the week had moved along smoothly. Tony was due back that evening after having spent the past three days in Prague. Steve did not pretend to understand what Tony's role was, only that he had been asked to give a talk on something mechanically related at a technology conference.

Steve missed him, but he was glad of the opportunity to move freely. He could implement his plan without Tony catching on. Although there was one part that made him, well… uneasy.

Bruce was working in his lab. Steve paused when he saw that he had interrupted a video chat. The screen was up and displaying a large man with blue fur.

"Oh," he hesitated in the doorway. "I'm sorry."

"It is always a pleasure to see you, Captain Rogers," the furry man declared. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Steve smiled sheepishly. Doctor McCoy was always very kind, but he was another scientist. Between him, Bruce and Tony, Steve usually felt pretty inadequate in the brains department. "You?"

"I am well, thank you. And thank _you_, Doctor Banner, for your input. I will not take any more of your precious time."

"It's no imposition," Bruce replied easily. "I'm always up for a distraction."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then disconnected.

"What can I do for you, Steve?" Bruce asked, entering something on his computer before turning his full attention to his guest. Steve shifted.

"I need to ask you for some advice," he said uneasily.

"Anything I can do to help."

"It's a little embarrassing," Steve warned him. His face was aflame, but he needed to do this.

"It's about Tony, isn't it?" Despite his weary tone, Bruce was smiling. He was teasing, Steve realized. "Embarrassing things and Tony always seem to go hand in hand."

"It's kind of personal," Steve admitted. "But I think it's important. Is it okay if I close the door?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow. He nodded.

Steve shut the door.

* * *

Tony was tired when he came back, suffering from jet leg and too much alcohol. It was not because the man had been drinking excessively. Steve knew Tony did not drink nearly as much as he used to. His body simply was not accustomed to that kind of alcohol intake anymore, and when he was at a party, he was not used to holding back.

"They were horrible," Tony groaned, collapsing on the sofa and looking at Steve piteously. Smiling warmly, Steve sat beside him and slung an arm over his shoulders. Tony sank into him with a grateful sigh. "They all wanted _something_. If I have to hear another sleazy old man try to ply me with compliments to get his bony fingers on my tech, I'm going to scream."

"I'm glad you're home," Steve declared.

"Me too," Tony dropped lower, finally ending up curled over Steve's lap and looking quite content to remain there. "Mmmff. This is nice. You've been in Bruce's lab."

Steve laughed.

"You can tell?"

"Your clothes smell like the lab," Tony agreed. He did not complain when Steve tugged at him. He simply wrapped his arms around Steve's neck when he was deposited unceremoniously into the waiting lap. "Hey, I missed you too, Cap."

"I'm taking you out tomorrow," Steve informed him.

"Is that so?" Tony smirked at him, then laughed at Steve's affront. "Okay, okay. I'll call my other boyfriend and tell him he'll have to wait until Sunday."

"I'd like to meet this other boyfriend of yours," Steve murmured. "Is he handsome?"

"Don't worry. You're still the fairest in the land."

Steve kissed him. Tony pressed into him with a happy murmur, the sound deepening into a heartfelt moan when Steve's hand found his crotch. He broke away with a gasp.

"Kind of open here, Steven," he panted.

He was right, but Steve was unbelievably keyed up. And when Tony's hands fisted in his hair, it was difficult not to roll him over right there on the couch.

Oh hell.

Tony gave a little yip of surprise when he suddenly found himself on his back, Steve draped over him like an undulating blanket.

It did not last long.

"Fuck, Steve," Tony grunted when it was over. "Not that I'm complaining here, but let's not wreck our clothes next time. These suits have to be dry cleaned."

Steve chuckled and pressed his lips to the frantic pulse point at Tony's throat. He had soiled his pants as well, but it was completely worth it.

* * *

Saturday came, and Steve was beyond nervous. Excited, of course, because he had planned this out carefully, and he knew Tony would like it. He just wanted everything to go well. It was a little sad, but he was certain that something would go wrong. Because he wanted perfection, there would be _something_. That was how their lives seemed to be.

The only thing he could do was prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Worst was seeming to happen when he woke up to Tony's cursing and making a mad dash from the bed that morning.

"God damn it all to hell!"

It was not particularly early—well, Steve doubted Tony would agree that six-thirty was not early—but Steve had been having a nice dream, and he figured he should be allowed to be confused when his boyfriend started having a meltdown first thing upon waking.

"Jarvis! What the hell! What's wrong with you?"

Steve opened his eyes, a little bewildered at the whirlwind that was Tony Stark. He was digging through drawers, yanking out a shirt that definitely did not belong to him and dragging it on over his head. He tried for pants next, but those did not work out so well for him. It was only after he was tripping over too-long jeans and puzzling over the waistband that was a bit too big that he seemed to realize he was not in his own room.

"Oh hell. Jarvis!"

"I am uncertain what you wish for me to do, sir," Jarvis said mildly.

"Make time reverse!" Tony snarled. "And do your fucking job! The one I gave you!"

"Tony?" Steve sat up to better admire the way Tony looked in his clothes. He would have stayed there, but Tony seemed to be working himself into a full panic. So he pushed the blankets back and climbed out of bed. "Is everything okay?"

"No!" Tony immediately objected, whirling on him and stumbling when his feet caught on the hem of the jeans that were at least three inches too long. "No, go back to sleep. I can do this! You just have to stay sleeping for the next three hours, and it'll be just fine, I _swear_."

"Tony!" Steve caught his shoulders, putting a stop to the frantic attempts at shoving him back to the bed. "Take a breath. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong!" Which was such a huge lie, Steve did not even have to attempt to call him on it. Really, Tony was not trying, and he knew it. He groaned and gave another useless shove at Steve's chest. "It's… today's our anniversary."

"Yes, it is," Steve allowed. "And you decided to verbally abuse Jarvis because of it?"

"I knew about it!" Tony said, looking at him desperately. "I swear, I did! Pepper said she would shoot me a memo, and Jarvis was supposed to remind me, and I was going to make it amazing! _Really_ amazing, Steve! It's important, isn't it? Pepper says these things are important, and I am _trying_ here, but Jarvis didn't remind me, and Pepper sent me to this goddamned conference, and I didn't forget! I _swear_ I didn't forget! So just go back to bed, and—"

"_Tony!_" Steve cut him off, alarmed that the man seemed to be genuinely close to a panic attack. "Breathe!"

"I am such a horrible boyfriend," Tony groaned. "I am so sorry. I promise, I am going to make this up to you."

Steve kissed him. The man wasn't breathing anyway, so at least Steve could shut him up. He held tight, pulling back only when he felt Tony's knees buckle. Catching the bewildered man's weight, Steve could only smile fondly.

"I'm sorry," he said as Tony tried to catch his breath. "That was all my fault. I had Pepper distract you and tell Jarvis not to remind you."

"You… wait, what?" Tony frowned. "Say again?"

"You're always the one to take me out," Steve explained. "It's our six month anniversary, and I wanted to be the one to do something special for you."

"You went behind my back with Pepper and _Jarvis_?" Tony asked incredulously. Steve winced. It sounded pretty bad when said aloud like that. To be fair, he had no idea Pepper would send Tony to _Europe_ when she said she would keep him busy this week.

Then Tony was chuckling, and Steve relaxed.

"You devious bastard," Tony kissed him. "All right, then. Dazzle me, Captain."

Steve grinned.

"Well, this wasn't part of my original plan, but I don't suppose I could convince you to wear that shirt today?"

Tony glanced down at the oversized hooded sweatshirt with MIT written across the front. It had been a gift, obviously, since Steve did not go to MIT, could not hope to be accepted at a place like that. But Tony looked good in dark colors, and there was just something charming about how large the sweatshirt was on him.

"You are strange," Tony declared, but the shirt remained on. "Can I at least get a pair of my own pants?"

"Your own pants do look better," Steve agreed, making a show of leaning over to look down Tony's back. He had to admit, he loved the shocked sound Tony made when he grabbed at the seat of the borrowed pants and gave them a light tug. "These sag in the butt."

That got Tony giggling hysterically.

"My _God_, I love you," Tony declared.

Steve could only stand in silent shock as the man kissed his slack mouth and broke away. He was still gaping when Tony shucked the pants and stalked out of the room wearing only the sweatshirt and boxer shorts.

"It's Bruce's turn to make breakfast!" Tony called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving Steve uncertain of what had just happened.

No. That was not quite right. Steve knew _exactly_ what had just happened, what Tony had just said.

Okay, so it was juvenile. Even so, it was not even seven, and this was officially the _best day ever_.

* * *

Steve floated through the day, not at all bothered by the amused looked Bruce shot him and the way Clint moved warily around him. Natasha had somehow roped Tony into training with her and Clint, and she did not go easy on him.

"Come on, Stark!" she barked at him relentlessly. "Use his strength against him."

"A little instruction would be nice!" Tony snarled, grunting when he once again hit the mat.

"When your opponent is both bigger and stronger than you, you have to give ground to take it," Natasha said sternly. "Look for the weak points—the joints. If his hips are out of alignment, you can take him down just be twisting him off balance. Do it again."

Clint, on the other hand, was going very easy on the other man. Steve knew Tony's ego was suffering more than his body, but that did not mean he would not be sore tomorrow.

"I'll guide you through it this time," Clint offered. "When I take a swing at you, try to avoid it—right. Then catch the arm—" Tony's hand caught Clint's wrist. "Turn, cant the hip, and knock me down."

The next body to hit the mat was Clint's.

Tony grinned, then yelled when Clint swung around, his feet taking out Stark's legs. He groaned and rolled over, glaring out of the corner of his eye at the man who he no doubt thought had tricked him. Clint just smirked and slapped the back of his thigh before rolling to his feet.

"Up and at 'em, Stark!" Clint ordered. "You'll only get this right with practice!"

"I hate you." But he reached up and let Clint haul him upright.

"You won't the next time someone takes a swing at you," Clint assured him. "Do it again."

"I deserve some sort of medal for doing this today," Tony griped. He caught Clint's arm, twisted, and sent the man tumbling. "_Ha!_"

Earlier lesson learned, he danced out of reach. He was not looking where he was going, and his retreat took him into Steve. Pulling out of his stretch (he had just finished sparring with Thor, and it was always wise to stretch before and after _that_ level of exercise), Steve decided it might be fun to play along with this training exercise. It had, after all, taken them a year to get Tony to really start taking this seriously.

Startled that he had hit someone, Tony turned, which was a bad move. Steve stooped, put his shoulder in Tony's stomach, hooked an arm behind his knees, and stood in one smooth motion.

"_Gyah!_" There was some flailing, an aborted attempt at kicking, until Tony went rigid, grabbing the back of Steve's shirt in desperate attempt to remain stable. "_STEVEN!_"

"Next lesson will be for fighting multiple opponents," Steve declared. He twitched slightly at the hands brushing along his sides, Tony's struggle to push himself upright taking him into a ticklish zone. He realized his error when Tony suddenly went still. The man was at his back, but he could picture his shit-eating grin perfectly. "Tony—"

Fingers attacked his sides, and there was no stopping that unmanly yelp that came out. Because now Steve had a problem. He needed to get Tony away from him without actually hurting the man.

"_Tony_!"

Clint was doubled over laughing, so no help there. Steve stumbled, swatting at the hands, but he had only one arm free, and Tony had free range. Natasha showed no interest in assisting him. She was actually _smiling_.

"Tony, that is cheating!"

"It's not cheating if I win!" Tony retorted.

"I'm going to—" Steve reached for something to stabilize himself. It was Thor, who was, of course, laughing heartily. "Thor! I'm going to drop him!"

"I can see your problem," Thor said through his laughter. "Allow me to assist you, my friend."

The tickling stopped as Tony's weight left his shoulder. Gasping, half laughing himself, Steve released his hold on Tony's legs and fell back. Thor had lifted Tony by the waist as easily as he would pick up a child, and Steve caught a glimpse of the god righting the genius even as Steve overbalanced and hit his rear on the mats.

"Hah!" Tony proclaimed, not at all bothered by the fact that he had just been carried about the room with such ease. They tended to disregard normal rules of propriety when Thor or the Hulk were involved. "I win!"

"I was going to drop you on your head!" Steve protested.

"I still win!" Tony said stubbornly. "You were incapacitated!"

"That doesn't work when I'm wearing my armor," Steve reminded him, pushing to his feet as he finally caught his breath.

"You think you could sling me over your shoulder when I'm in _my_ armor, smartass?" Tony retorted. "Admit it. I won."

"His argument is valid," Natasha murmured.

"You would have been hurt if I dropped you!" Steve tried one more time.

"I knew you wouldn't," Tony patted Thor's arm. He looked very small next to the big man, but then, Steve looked small next to Thor. "Thanks, pal."

"I am always here to aid you, my friend," Thor declared. "I am sorry, Steven, but I do believe Anthony to be correct. He won."

Steve sighed, then shook his head and laughed. He did not care that he lost. He was simply grateful Tony was not hurt.

* * *

"I asked Happy to drive us."

"You're still miffed that I beat you, aren't you?"

"No, Tony. I wasn't going to let you drive even before training."

"Not even a little irritated?"

Steve chuckled, turning when Tony hooked a finger through his belt loop. The man probably meant it to be hindering, but Steve took it as an opportunity to drag him close enough to kiss.

"I _want_ you to win," Steve assured him. "That's the point of those exercises."

"Oh." Tony was wearing the sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed up around his elbows to keep them from falling past his hands. Steve had wondered if it was strange how he liked the sight of Tony in his clothes, but the thought had been fleeting at most. He really didn't care. He was happy that Tony went along with the request. "You don't care that I cheated?"

"I thought you said it wasn't cheating."

"I was lying. It was totally cheating."

"Nothing is cheating when your life is at stake," Steve decided. "Although I wouldn't rely on tickling as a defensive move."

"Only if you try to kidnap me."

"And only if you don't want it," Steve replied, earning a toothy grin.

They stopped in the carport. Happy was not there yet, but they were early. Steve had done this deliberately, wanting everything to go just right.

"I want this to be a surprise," he said. "So will you play along with me a bit?"

"Of course," Tony's hand flexed around Steve's belt, distracting but manageable. "What do you… um."

There was a cautious look on Tony's face. It was not the expression Steve had been going for. If anything, he had expected something a little more playful. Maybe even leering. A comment about kinks.

"Is that…?"

"A blindfold," Steve said, hesitant now. Because Tony was tensing up, and this was not what he wanted. "I just don't want you to see until we get there."

"Yeah, I get…" Tony paused, then cleared his throat, offering a pained smile though his eyes remained riveted on the strip of cloth in Steve's hands. Steve had struck on something here, something unpleasant.

"Tony, you don't have to," he said gently.

"I know." Cocky, false bravado. Tony swallowed and winced. "Yeah, I can't. Do that."

"I'm sorry," Steve dropped the cloth and settled that hand at Tony's back instead. He wasn't shaking, but he was very stiff, shrugging slightly in attempt to relax. Steve pulled him closer, "I didn't realize. Can you tell me?"

Tony grunted against his shoulder, hands still desperately tight around Steve's belt, clinging to him. He shrugged again, and Steve felt some of the muscles ease in his back. They stood still for a few minutes, Tony relaxing by increments.

When Happy arrived, the man simply put his back to the car—and by extension, them—and leaned against it to wait. He was obviously accustomed to waiting for Tony Stark, and Steve was grateful that he did not mind or say anything.

"Later," Tony said abruptly. He pulled back and managed a smile, reaching up to kiss Steve's frowning mouth. "I'm fine. I can close my eyes. I won't peek, I swear."

"You promise you're okay?" Steve demanded.

"I'm fine. Perfect!" Tony kissed his chin and smirked. "You're here. I get a surprise. It's okay, Steve."

"If you say so."

"I do." Tony pulled open the door to the Rolls Royce and gestured for Steve to climb in first. Steve caught his hand and pulled him in after, gratified that Tony's grin seemed completely relaxed by now. "No more apologies now. Let's get this show on the road! Is there food? I hope there's food. I'm starving."

"There's food," Steve promised. "Now close your eyes. Happy, we're ready."

"Is now a good time to mention that I get carsick when I can't see where we're going?"

"_What?_"

"Kidding! I'm kidding!"

Steve rolled his eyes and kissed Tony again. His eyes _were_ closed, just as promised. But then Tony reached up and dragged him back when Steve tried to pull away.

"This is a great way to distract me from where we're going," Tony mumbled against his mouth. Steve could not contain his grin. He could really get behind this.

* * *

Tony obligingly kept his eyes closed until they were in the restaurant. Steve had a feeling his eyes were not what kept him from figuring out where they were, because Tony started laughing the instant they were inside.

"Oh my god!" Tony still kept his eyes closed, because he had promised he would not open them until Steve gave the word. "This is fantastic!"

Steve inhaled the smell of food and grease and immediately recalled a lifetime ago. Of course Tony would know exactly where they were. Steve had been half asleep when they were here last, and he would have remembered by the aroma alone.

"You might as well open your eyes," he said.

"Shawarma!" Tony cheered. "I haven't had this since last year!"

"It's not a fancy place, but I thought it was appropriate," Steve said modestly.

"It's perfect!"

Tony caught his hand and dragged him toward the table that had obviously been set up for them. There were a couple other patrons, and they shot bemused glances toward the famous couple in the corner. It was still a battle. Some people would never accept Tony Stark and Steve Rogers as a legitimate couple, either for moral reasons or just sheer stubbornness that their heroes could not possibly have a life outside of Avengers' missions. The latter reason was actually amusing. For the most part, most people who had moral opposition to them did not have the guts to say it to their faces. (After all, who wanted to tell Captain America and Iron Man anything that might upset them?)

The owners of the Shawarma place remembered the weary heroes who had dined at their place after the battle over New York last year. Steve had barely to mention what he wanted before they were tripping over themselves to get him into the shop. This was why there was actually a clean tablecloth and lit tea candles for them. It was modest, but Steve found the effect charming.

Tony seemed to like it too.

"You are unbelievable," Tony announced. "Turning my own employees and friends against me. Convincing my _AI_ to deceive me for a _week_. And buying me dinner in true teenage romance fashion. I'm going to have a difficult time showing you up on our one-year."

The words sounded insulting, but the tone was so pleased that Steve decided it had been a compliment. He grinned and nudged his knee against Tony's under the table before standing.

"What do you want?" he asked. "I'll go place our orders."

Tony responded with delighted laughter. He caught Steve's wrist and pulled him down for a light kiss. PDA, Steve recalled. At least here no one seemed to mind. And Tony was smiling warmly.

"I love you," Tony told him, then pointed at the menu. "This one."

Broadsided for the second time that day, Steve could only stumble to the counter to order their dinner.

* * *

Happy put up the partition in the limo at Steve's request. The man was as discreet as they came, but sometimes Steve liked the thought of being alone when he was making an attempt at intimacy.

"Just so you know, you owe me big time for having Pepper send me to that conference," Tony told him as Happy pulled away from the curb. "Dinner was a start. But Prague was like purgatory. I honestly thought it would never end."

"I just asked her to keep you distracted," Steve said apologetically. "I had no idea she was going to ship you out of the country for a week."

"Ignorance is no excuse," Tony said airily. "It's still your fault."

"Of course," Steve agreed. "I'll make it up to you. First, you promised." At Tony's blank stare, he added, "The blindfold."

"Ah…_That_," Tony grimaced, then sighed. "You know half of my things are related."

"Same reason you don't like the bath?" Steve predicted.

"The caves were pretty mazelike," Tony nodded. "They didn't want me knowing how to get out."

"Okay," Steve pressed his mouth to Tony's brow. "No blindfolds then. Anything else I should know?"

"Just don't make me go spelunking anytime soon, and we're good."

Steve smiled against his forehead.

"Deal." This next part was something he had wanted to do for a while now, but it was never easy to ask. Still, Tony was the one person he should be able to talk to about this. "Have you given any thought to, um… to sex?"

Tony went still. Steve felt it in the hands at his waist, just before Tony pulled back to look at him. The man could be completely inscrutable when he wanted. Steve both admired and hated that about him. It was impossible to tell what Tony was thinking—good or bad.

"You're talking… condoms, lube, the whole shebang?" Tony asked slowly. Steve nodded, his face flaming hot. Tony wasn't even blushing, though he did look a bit hesitant. "Of course I've thought about it."

"Are you interested?" Steve had to ask. He thought he knew the answer, but he would never dare to assume anything like that. "With me?"

"As opposed to doing it with Barton?" Tony asked incredulously. Steve sighed and managed a wincing smile. This had to be the most awkward conversation of his life, and that was including his talk with Bruce the previous day. "Well, yeah. Are you?" He flashed a wry grin. "With _me?_"

"Oh yeah."

Steve grunted as he found himself with a lapful of Tony Stark. His face still felt hot, but now he was glad he was sitting, because the blood was traveling south rapidly, leaving him gasping against Tony's mouth. He planted a hand in the small of Tony's back, dragging him forward and attacking the man's neck, needing to breathe but not wanting to break away.

"I haven't done this before," Tony panted, arching when Steve slid a hand under his borrowed shirt. "Maybe we should… take it… or you can keep, uh, doing that…"

Steve smiled when Tony whined and squirmed against him.

"Fuck, Steve! You're going to make me embarrass myself again!"

"I happen to know you have a private elevator to your suite," Steve murmured. "And I've done the research. I know what to do."

"Oh, my god," Tony groaned. "Remind me to have Jarvis check… your browser history…"

"Jarvis helped," Steve assured him. "So did Bruce…" his face lit up again as he remembered that bizarre conversation. "And Clint."

"Jesus," Tony wheezed out a moaning laugh. "You're unreal. Let's… come on, Steve. Nobody's first time should be in a car."

They had been parked for several minutes now. Happy, bless him, had left them alone. Steve echoed Tony's laugh and slowly disengaged. His hand had been down the back of Tony's pants. Retracting it earned a moan of complaint.

Steve imagined this was what it felt like to be a teenager in love when they stumbled, giggling like children, into the elevator. Tony shoved him into the corner, and Steve let him, grabbing a thigh and kissing Tony intently when the man obliged by wrapping his arms around Steve's neck. An instant later, Tony's legs were pressed hard around Steve's waist, and he curled a hand under Tony to keep him from having to work too hard.

Then Steve was taking them into Tony's room and carefully lowering them to the bed.

"Tony," he murmured, stilling the wandering hands and smoothing a palm down the other man's cheek. Tony's beard was coarse beneath his hand, an interesting contrast to the softer skin around it. Struggling to regain control, Tony turned toward the hand, pressing his mouth against the palm, eyes dark as he looked up at Steve. "God. Tony, I love you."

It was the first time he had said it aloud. He had known this for months, but never had he actually said it. Tony had beaten him to it, stating it like it was the most natural thing in the world. To Steve it felt unreal. Before the war, this is not what he would have imagined for himself. Now, he could think of wanting nothing else.

Crap. He was crying.

Tony let Steve burrow into his neck, hands gentle over his back as he uttered soothing nonsense. After a few minutes, though, he got impatient again.

"Come on, Steven. You really going to keep me waiting?" Tony murmured. "I waited six months for you to make this move, and I admit, I'm getting a little anxious here."

Steve jerked back, looking down at Tony in shock.

"You were waiting for _me_ to make the first move?" he blurted. Tony's lips twisted in a rueful smile.

"Well, yeah, Cap," he said reasonably. "You were raised in a time when this kind of relationship was never talked about, and premarital sex could destroy a girl's future. I figured I should respect that."

Steve groaned and let his head drop again, until he was laughing into Tony's shoulder, momentarily forgetting exactly what they had started.

"You kept holding back, so I thought…" he mumbled, then lifted his head and planted a sloppy kiss on Tony's mouth. "I love you, so much. You're impossible."

Tony leaned up to recapture his mouth when Steve pulled back.

"I know. I love you too. Now let's get to it. I'm not a blushing virgin. You don't have to coddle."

"You kind of are a virgin," Steve replied, gently teasing even as he reached for the drawer—yes, he had planned way ahead for this, and thank _god_ Tony had not gone through his nightstand that day.

Tony flushed at the implication but hooked a leg around Steve's and dragged them together. He breathed hot in Steve's ear, his voice low and rough and completely arousing when he murmured to him.

"_Bring it on_, Captain."

* * *

FIN

(Okay, I didn't do the interviews because I get weirded out trying to write real people. So sorry for that, but I hope people liked it anyway.)


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